


Paper Cut Lover

by stylesdove



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Armitage Hux - Freeform, Ben Solo - Freeform, Blowjobs, Cheating, College, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Crying, Daddy Kink, Dominant Kylo Ren, Dorm Sex, Erotica, F/M, Forbidden Love, Kylo Ren - Freeform, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Light BDSM, Love Triangle, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Professor Kylo Ren, Protective Kylo Ren, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Star Wars - Freeform, Verbal Humiliation, descriptive writing, explicit - Freeform, professor and student, reader - Freeform, sub!Reader, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 148,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26442811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesdove/pseuds/stylesdove
Summary: When the alluring and mysterious, Mr. Ren, becomes the new Literature Professor at a prestigious college, a good girl finds herself breaking the overly strict rules repeatedly in hopes to get taught a different kind of lesson.Immediately drawn to her like an ignorant moth to a scorching flame, Kylo Ren knows that his infatuation with his student will only end treacherously, but that doesn't stop either of them from burning in the secretive fire that trickles around them in the tension.But when her life becomes even more complicated on top of her secret affair with her teacher, the student struggles to keep it hidden from the rest of the campus, including, her Father, who is the Chancellor of the college and the spiteful Ex-Wife of the dominating, Mr. Ren.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52





	1. INTRODUCTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEY – This work is originally found and REGULARLY updated on my Wattpad account, @Stylesdove.  
> I've never been familiar with AO3 but I thought that I'd start posting some of my Kylo Ren FanFictions on here, starting with this one !!  
> I hope you enjoy it, and btw I tend to update either everyday or every second day, because I am currently also writing another Kylo Fic on Wattpad :)

When the alluring and mysterious, Mr. Ren, becomes the new Literature Professor at a prestigious college, a good girl finds herself breaking the overly strict rules repeatedly in hopes to get taught a different kind of lesson.

Immediately drawn to her like an ignorant moth to a scorching flame, Kylo Ren knows that his infatuation with his student will only end treacherously, but that doesn't stop either of them from burning in the secretive fire that trickles around them in the tension.

But when her life becomes even more complicated on top of her secret affair with her teacher, the student struggles to keep it hidden from the rest of the campus, including, her Father, who is the Chancellor of the college and the spiteful Ex-Wife of the dominating, Mr. Ren.

Your Mother always told you, "Good girls are only bad girls who haven't been caught yet," but growing up, you never believed her...

Not until your Professor became the one who calls you a naughty girl.


	2. ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HI – This work was originally posted on Wattpad, under the username @Stylesdove !!  
> I update regularly on that site :)

Words are often carved by my hands that have the ability to build a world within them and also tear it all down before a prying eye can submerge into my creation. 

With a weapon of ink, I can hold the power to form a new life, or if I desire, destroy a paper life too. 

My writing used to be mine, and only mine – But lately the pages had lacked life and in the letters, a deep and dullness only carried my tongue. I used to enjoy writing fiction upon a page and watching the scribbles colour the blank, but lately, I haven't been able to jot anything worthy down. 

Like poison without an antidote, with my hidden words, I can do anything my fragile heart desires, if only it wasn't barricaded by white walls and rows of dreary faces. This social antidote is without a dose of poison, but the college campus is a death to my muse. 

Through the gates and across the green grass of the grounds that were carved by pavement and watered down by sprinklers, I gazed out the dirty, wide windows of the classroom, breathing in all of the melancholy and grey from the skies.

Beyond the tall scrapers and busy streets of New York, my Father's college was an up and coming, prestigious education that was bringing in many talented and intelligent students that wished to gain a career beyond their obtained hearts of desires. My whole life, my Father was the Chancellor, after the title was passed down to him after the years of climbing up the ranks of deans. 

It looked exactly like the old brochure that sat lonesome in the drawer of my white wooden desk back home, where my Mother now sleeps instead of the always empty bed, where my Father lays, late in the night, way beyond his finished working hours. 

My Mother always told me, that leaving an impression upon a reader, is the skill of a great writer – No. _Artist!_ But even she had lost the same muse as I. It was through many long and heartbreaking years, in which she watched her grip upon the ink, slowly slide away into a forgotten void only to never return – It was ever since she found out that my Father was cheating on her with his assistant; But my perfect Mother, was always a better actor than writer, and like always, she pretended that everything was as crisp as her empty, flawless page.

Like Mother like Daughter, I guess, for now all she and I can write are detailed essays and dialysis' on other people's lives and words that will always be better than our own. Once a famous author of many romantic poetry novels, my Mother only now, works for a Reader's Digest – A lousy magazine that ranged from celebrity gossips, routines and recipes, and now thanks to her contribution, many detailed articles on how to get over heartaches and other self-help for women, _from another, pettier one._

 _And I?_ Well, I always thought that I would follow in her footsteps as a child, becoming a renowned poet or author, of many poem-novels, but once her love of poetry died, so did mine; And I am certain my Father was very pleased that the muse in my heart to pour loved ink onto an empty page of fiction was lost, but like my Mother, I too, _am petty_ – So that's why I am enrolled into the tedious and passionless, English and Literature Studies at the very same college that my Father is the Chancellor of.

The tall, brick buildings stood proud behind the elegant rose bushes which framed them and thick, tall trees were spread throughout the land, their autumn leaves falling to the floor and casting upon it like a heavy blanket. The campus grounds were a couple of metres below the classroom that I sit in now, awaiting the rest of the dull faces of the students to flood into before the Professor arrives.

I watched as hundreds of students, rushed through the sprinklers with their campus hoodies up or a book covering their hair as they made their way to the dormitories or early classes. I could feel the silver tinge beneath my eyes painfully and my hands were gripping the sleeves of my hoodie tightly as I tried to resist the droop of my heavy eyes. 

I had spent all last night, trying to read the book in front of me, which I had now, practically thrown out of my bag and onto this white desk that had litters of scribbles and profanities etched into the surface with blue and black ink. 

From 10pm to 3am, I had spent my time trying to read every line upon the pages, but like always, I only became distracted 5 minutes in, and eventually threw the book back onto my bed, before picking it back up to retry an hour later. 

The problem with loosing all of the effort to write a poem or story? I seem to have lost the ability to properly indulge in another's creation as well. 

In the early morning light, the pages of the book fluttered in the heating ventilation above, oblivious to the sounds of many feet that trudged in and the scraping of chairs on floors. Sighing and forcing my gaze upon the binding of the novel, I became anxious with the dreaded arrival of my Literature teacher; A greying, old man, with a protruding stomach and a struck and open nerve that seemed to be hardwired to his furious intentions. 

Professor Roy was a man who spoke in a tone as dreary as his white beard, but when he yelled at you for not understanding a topic that he had studied for multiple years, the eruption that unfolded, was something to be weary of.

A nervous lump formed in the base of my throat. Tasting of acid and regret.

 _The Great Gatsby._ A prosperous, fictional novel, which seems to follow the endeavours of many party-goers who intertwine occasionally with their riches and shared longing to grasp a sight upon the infamous Gatsby, who is deeply in love with the woman across the lake of Long Island in the summer of 1922. Many literary critics consider, The Great Gatsby, to be one of the greatest novels ever written, but I am only hoping it lives up to the movie, for that is what I resorted to watching at 3am, when I couldn't bare staring distantly at the first page anymore.

Maybe, pettiness would always be my Mother and I's downfall, for Father doesn't even care to read her new work in the magazines, and I am starting to think that taking these courses were only going to lead to a worser fate than having a Father who had everything in the city, other than a perfect family – For I am surely failing Literature. 

In the midst of boredom and apprehension, I distracted myself by grazing my fingernail down the many pages of the novel, as two girls sit at the desk in front of me, chatting loudly and laughing in pitched tones. The book was bonded with several hundreds of white pages, each gentle to my touch, as I tried to ignore whatever they spoke about.

In the midst of a daydream, I wondered too, if Scott Fitzgerald had ever been thieved of the ability to write – Obviously not, otherwise he wouldn't have an infamous novel of 218, filled pages. 

The words that shutter by as I flick through the novel, are sneering at my loss. Laughing at my lack of work and only scoffing at my essays. It reminds me of the life that I don't have, the people that I will never know or even, the love I will never feel. 

How could Scott Fitzgerald, write such a long book out of nothing, filling the blank with only his imagination? 

I used to think that my poetry, could be considered as great or as adored as my Mother's – A long time ago. Maybe, throughout high school, where I thought my Ex-Boyfriend, was the definition of love and the muse to the desire; But that was obviously not love, so had I imagined my ability all along? Is the ability to write, still deep within me? Or is what my Mother often says, true? That a poem is meaningless unless you are scribbling it with intentions to show who it is based upon.

My fingers flick through the pages backwards, when I finally reach the cover for the tenth time again. 

"Hey," One of the girls, suddenly turns around on her chair, glancing to me with her icy eyes, "Did you hear the good news?"

Furrowing my brows, I tilt my head to the side and close the book gently upon the desk, hoping the girl, _Rachel Mathews_ , doesn't notice that the pages of my edition are much more unmarked than her own. 

I give her a small, unsure smile, "Good news?" I ask, "What is it?"

Rachel Mathews' eyes go wide and she huffs a breath of laughter with a gaping mouth as she glances to her friend beside her, who even though she had sat in this class for months, I had failed to remember her name in the midst of her subtle shyness. 

"Even the Chancellor's daughter doesn't know!" Rachel chuckled, flicking her auburn hair over her shoulder and then leaning in closer to me, with her polished hands gripping on the back of her unsteady chair. 

I wince at her voice. Rachel Mathews was always the loudest voice in the room, wherever she was. Her conversations were buoyant and intended to be heard. There was something of the unsatisfied thespian in her, that desired all the attention spans to be on her, but not in a way that was conceited or narcissistic. 

Everyone knew that she was mainly enrolled in Theatre, but her older Sister was a major in English, and everything that her Sister did, Rachel had to do better – Even in my silence, my observation liked Rachel, even though she was overly annoying at times... But maybe that is just the selfishness in me, that doesn't wish to be the only one flunking this course. 

Rachel smacks her lips and glances around the filling room behind us, as I was only sitting in the row behind her's, which was the first – Deepening and lowering her voice so nobody could overhear, she could have even cupped her hand to her cheek, for it was blatantly obvious that she was whispering something that she wasn't supposed to know, just by her silence.

"Professor Roy had a stroke on the weekend," She utters to me, "We're getting a new Professor today."

My face falls and my hand goes limp upon The Great Gatsby. 

_A stroke?_

_A new Professor?_

Guilt forms deep in the pit of my stomach, as the worry for Professor Roy, is soon overlapped by my wonders about the rest of the semester. _Does this mean that I don't need to fret about not reading the assigned novel?_

I shake my own thoughts away and ignore the way the weight upon my shoulders is immediately lifted and even my book is forgotten beneath my palms.

"A new Professor?" I blurt to Rachel, who nods eagerly at my questioning, "Who?"

Rachel purses her glossy lips together and raises her shoulders and hands by her face in a shrugging motion, "I have no idea. That's why I was asking if you knew, I thought maybe your Dad would have told you."

I give her a small laugh beneath my breath and shake my head, sighing after my words are spoken, "No – No." I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the annoyance that prickles upon my flesh upon his mention, "He doesn't tell me anything to do with my own courses."

_Or anything at all, really._

Rachel only tuts and sways her head to the side, "Oh well. I guess we will see who it is soon." She says, before turning back to the front and leaning her ear to her friend, who mumbles something that is worth the reward of Rachel's, boisterous laughter. 

Suddenly, the empty space by my side, feels even colder than usual and some part of me wishes I too, had a friend in this class, or at this campus. Only one of my friends had moved to this campus after high school and I am forever grateful for his choice, to this day – For I wouldn't know what I would do without my best-friend, Percy Mcarthy, who is studying Computer Science; Something he has tried to explain to me, over and over, but I will never understand. 

Silence had prevailed for the next few moments of this morning, as I watched the doorway tentatively, awaiting the new Professor as much as Rachel and her friend did, who would even extend their necks above student's heads who walked inside and threw their bags on the back of their chairs. 

They're late. Whoever they are, they are late by almost 15 minutes – Something that Professor Roy, would never be caught doing. 

I shake my head to myself and blow a breath up my face, swaying the strand that sat in-front of my eyes, to the side as I returned my bored gaze to the deep-blue cover of the novel, that I now began to flip through once again. 

For the next two minutes, my head remained studiously bent over the novel which smelt of fresh print and ink as I pretended that I was actually reading instead of falling into a deep daydream between the binder. 

The ceaseless buzzing of the classroom auditorium, and the unlimited amount of energy the students contained increased, which would be a rare sight if the class was actually under a teacher's supervision. Having no vicious teacher who would glare at the class with red flames dancing in the eyes of Professor Roy, was an unbelievable chance worth taking to have at least a few moments of snickers and lacking conversations until it has to die down. 

_And it did._ All at once as even the words that Rachel speaks loudly, fall limp in the air upon the new Professor's entrance. I lift my hazy gaze out of the pages, where the words are beginning to burn into my vision, and glance to the new teacher. 

Immediately, my forefinger falls down the hundreds of pages of my opened novel, slicing on a page and causing a deep paper cut to form on the tip of the skin.

Blood soon rises in the thin, stinging cut, but I only let it slowly draw as my lips part to the man who drops his briefcase below the desk and begins to write his name on the board in thick, white chalk that scrapes the board harshly, but beyond the frozen state of my mind and nerves, I cannot even wince at the sound as everyone else did.

When he turned around and faced the class, I sucked in a sharp breath as the clock that ticked above his head, seemed to slow as the rest of time and space did around him too. 

The room swirled around my vision, almost blinding me with a magnifying awe as his features draw tendrils of inkling reverence which make me suddenly feel as if I was sucked into Gatsby's shoes upon first sight of his long, lost lover, Daisy... 

Only this is my real, sombre life that has been morphed around him, who looks anything but dull. 

Dark, raven hair that softly swayed in long strands that seemed soft to the touch around his strong and defined features of pure porcelain, the Professor was tall and broad, and even beneath the ironed, black suit that he wore above a white, loose collared shirt, I could tell his form was pure muscle as it even showed in the twining cords that lapped up his neck. 

His big hands were interlaced with each-other, falling comfortably just above his crotch, as he then swung a long leg in-front of the other and leaned back onto the edge of his new desk.

I struggled to swallow as his brown eyes flickered through the faces for a split second, only falling onto my stunned features once, before he then finally blessed me with the sound of his low tones. 

I wondered for a split second, how someone like him was stuck in such a dreary setting as this classroom? Surely, he was created from stone or marble, and was intended to be put places that glimmered to his worthy – And yet, here he stood, in-front of this bland, tasteless, white auditorium that was filled with even blanker faces and hearts. 

Everything seemed to hover around him, either moving or distorting at his presence in my sight, but the vision only gained clarity as it fixated on the words behind him, 

_Mr. Ren._


	3. TWO

Maybe, it was fate's punishment that I had sliced my finger upon the pages of the book in my hands that I hadn't yet read.

I should have poured myself into Fitzgerald's pages of words. I should have scoured the book instead of resorting to the movie. For maybe, once I am pulled out of this trance, I could quickly skim read the book in a nano-second, before the stranger blesses me with his own words, just so I can make sure that this is truely what Gatsby felt when he laid eyes upon Daisy – Where he stood in her house, drenched in rain water with a beating, timid heart inside his chest that he would gladly rip out with his gloved hands and pass on to her, wrapped in an expensive, silk handkerchief for safe-keeping.

I sat in a breathless rapture and the blood was just beginning to circle my fingertip and stick beneath my nail.

Like a novel, I was engrossed, absorbed, almost lost in a heavy trance or transported to another reality.

Professor Ren was like something out of my Mother's old poems, where hopeless romantics had swooned over the many men that she would conjure up in the midst of several lines. A man like him, who was brooding, dark, handsome and captured all of the attention around him, as if he truely, was the main character.

Just his overall attraction, drew me in like a magnetic field, clinging onto me like he had a vice-like grip on my mind, but when he eventually spoke out to the class, this twisted reality began to distort around him, challenging the mundane facts of my existence and bringing me into a new turbulent realm, where I indeed always was: A lousy classroom, where I seemed to bury into the rows of nonchalant faces.

His deep voice, boomed across my grey skies, lightening up my surroundings and almost giving me a reason to jot down just how it sounded incase I needed to recall it another day. With deep, brown eyes, the Professor surveyed the room casually, even giving a small, sideways smirk after his words.

"Good morning class." He said, leaning up from his place on the table to draw a long line beneath his name in chalk, "It seems that your previous Professor, Mr. Roy, has fallen ill and won't be able to teach for a while, so in the meantime – I am Professor Ren, and I will be teaching this Literature course and the rest of Mr. Roy's English courses."

His voice was like nothing I had ever heard before. It sounded like a drum, but deeper, or like a low bass, but still, deeper. It was smooth, like silk but somehow, rough like sand. His tone was as deep as the sun at midnight and surely, with that tone, I won't be failing this class anymore, for I could listen to his voice all day.

Professor Ren had a tone that sunk into my chest, whilst somehow also wrapping around my inner soul. With his loud, deep and heavy words, it vibrated with power and command throughout me, and yet, he hadn't even responded to the many questions that student's all called out to him, regarding Mr. Roy.

I sat quietly in my seat, sucking in a cold breath when he walked in-front of Rachel's table, which was only a few feet away from mine, and God, he was tall. Professor Ren, swiped a large hand in the air, as if to silence the class – And the scowl on his features, was enough to stop some, but not all.

"Quiet!" He shouted above the buzz, "Quiet!"

It was a voice with authority as my grounds seemed to metaphorically, shake like a storm. I swallowed roughly and flickered my gaze back onto the book in-front of me to settle the beat of my erratic, nervous heart. Blood was staining the sides of the pages. I rolled my eyes and sucked on my index finger to rid the crimson. 

I was lost with just his flicker of a gaze that laid upon me for a split second, slowing time into a stretched out continuum that even made the blood in my veins pause for a second, before he tore it into shreds as he looked away and spoke once more.

Metallic pricks my tastebuds, just as he begins his lesson, "I know I am a new face to the campus, and it is a shock that your old teacher is unwell, but I hope you all understand from here on, that I will not tolerate noise like that ever again."

And there he went, onwards into the late lesson, where the grey skies of autumn swirled outside the window, that the sun's rays also filtered through the mist and laid upon his pale features perfectly.

I laid my cheek on my palm, resting on my elbow as it turned out that no matter how soothing his voice could be, it was still all muffled behind the defocusing lens that his handsome face gave me. It was like wearing rose coloured glasses, only the room was dreary in all its might, but around him, the drab only sharpened him out – Proving that he truely, despite how intelligent he actually was as he proved it with his lesson, he did not belong in a place like this.

Reflecting on my own, inner monologue, I realise I sound like the reviews that scattered the front pages of my Mother's poetry, cherishing her words and boasting about her talents, when really, the only reason the reviewers adored my Mother's work, was because how she used to have a real way with her sombre words, that created the men of reader's dreams. I roll my eyes, look at me, I am one of those sad readers now, swooning over this man, who is just as unattainable as the ones upon paper.

And yet, he is more handsome than anyone could describe or imagine.

Scratch my previous thoughts – I'm not a lonesome, sad reviewer. I'm acting like a fifteen year old again.

I sank in my chair a little further, every-time Mr. Ren's eyes laid upon me as he spoke about some nonsense to do with ending an argument of inner conflict. There was none of the nervousness about him that usually came with new blood into a social space of adults. Ordinarily, new teachers seemed to base mainly off a semester manual that had been given to them, but he had none in those big hands of his, only an inky blue marker.

When he spoke, much to the surprise of the class, they all fell silent as he taught with a way that made sense. He was young, but still old enough for me to tell that he was at least, 15 years older than everyone in this room.

The clock behind him, seemed to begin working once again in the midst of his lesson that I hardly paid attention to, for it was nearly the end of class.

"Now," He clapped his hands together in a bored tone, then brushing away the white-chalk residue from his fingertips, "Where did Mr. Roy seem to leave you, during the last couple of lessons?"

Rachel Mathews' hand shot right into the air, as if she was scared someone would answer before she could have the chance. But nobody bothered to even raise their hand once they heard her gasp.

Her blonde hair, swayed over her extended arm and along her back in soft strands in-front of me. I watched how Mr. Ren glanced to her slowly upon her gasp, and only gave her a single nod, before his brown, heavy gaze fell to me in the gap between her head and the girl's next to her.

It was like a beacon in the darkness. A spotlight to a shy soul. I was utterly and hopelessly, frozen in shock as my lips parted slowly and my breath left my lungs whilst Rachel began to speak with her high tone, clashing with the memory of his rough one.

"We were assigned to read, Scott Fitzgerald's novel, The Great Gatsby." She said, pursing her glossed lips upon him before continuing whilst curling her poker-straight hair around her manicured finger, "We were then going to break apart the novel and analyse the themes and relationships, to then put it into our own words in the form of literature on one of the character's behalf."

He looks back to her slowly and only then, do I regain my breath – But only to then notice the way my stomach sinks at her words. My unread book of, The Great Gatsby, almost burns a hole in my desk. Of course, I would never get away with not reading it.

Mr. Ren only furrows his thick eyebrows, leaning on Mr. Roy's old desk and folding his strong arms around his toned chest that peeked through his white shirt, "The Great Gatsby?" He asked Rachel, but really, he seemed to be rolling the title off his tongue as if he hadn't heard it before – Or had heard it too many times, as he then flicks his eyes into the back of his head when she confirms his question.

He sighs, "That novel is too... Overdone." He says tiredly, swinging his leg over the other and then leaning back on the palms of his hands. I swear that his gaze moves back onto me for a split second, before he speaks again, "It's been dragged so much through the mud of education, that the novel isn't even enjoyable anymore."

Thank you! I almost praise. Relief immediately falls off my shoulders and leaves the pit of my stomach as all at once, I try to fight off a smile.

"I like the idea of writing a piece of literature in a characters behalf, but maybe not from that novel." Mr. Ren says.

Rachel Mathews makes a chortled sound in the back of her throat as she furrows her brows and flinches her face back, in a confused manner, "Not from The Great Gatsby?" She almost cries, and I hear a collection of sighs fall from behind me, "Then, what are we supposed to write it on?"

The raven-haired Professor, who stole all the beauty from the world, glanced back to her and once again, through the gap of her head to me. "What about..." He swung his head side to side for a moment, twisting his lips and humming at whatever he was choosing in his collection of novels that possibly sat on his oakwood, shelves back home.

When his brown eyes aren't upon me, I curl my two fingers together, ignoring the way the tip of my index, throbs and pushes more blood out of my paper cut as I wish upon the twisted limbs that he will chose a novel that I have already read – Before I lost the ability to lose myself in a novel and properly indulge and identify with the themes and characters.

Please. Please. Please. I beg in my own mind. There's a possibility he will, I have read a lot of classics and new adored novels, and they all sit comfortably upon my bookshelf back in my dorm, slowly collecting dust upon their pages.

I wondered what Mr. Ren's collection looked like compared to mine.

"What about..." He says again, "Ah, I know."

I hold my breath once more, no longer needing his gaze to steal it anymore, even if those brown's warm up my blood.

"The new assignment will be to read my chosen classic, and to then bring me a short poem back in the perspective of a character from it in two weeks. The novel assigned?" He says, giving the class a small smirk before finally revealing his choice.

His eyes lay upon me as he speaks so warmly, "Lolita."

My shoulders fall and my fingers go loose around each-other, only to grip rigidly around The Great Gatsby.

My eyes narrow upon him.

Lolita?

A poem?

On Lolita!

Mr. Ren's lukewarm words, seemed to boil my skin and blood, all at once. No longer was there a hazy glow around him and neither was the sun that shined upon his perfect features, as my annoyance began to cloud.

Just the title was enough to sting something back awake, that I had always fought against with my Mother. Her name was a violated novel that was like gasoline to my guts and memory, my fists began to clench around the novel, that I now preferred to read, a hundred times over than his new request, and my jaw rooted. 

Lolita. I had read it before, and it sat way low on my bookshelf, back at my dorm, collecting the most dust of them all. Written in 1953, by Vladimir Nabokov, the novel is notable for its controversial subject, that he had hidden for a long time behind his extraordinary vocabulary and language, that I must admit, are astounding. I understand why it is considered a masterpiece.

Yet when I had read it at the age of sixteen, only four years older than young, Lolita; Even with all there is to appreciate and admire in the inky words, I found that I became utterly confused as to why it was worshiped by many so easily.

It's not that I have a problem with unlikable characters or avoid darker themed books. In fact, I usually liked that sort of thing when I still clung onto the ability to read. But for some reason, spending the entire book steeped in the mind of a pedophile rhapsodising over a young girl just made me feel, violated on Lolita's behalf.

I recall the late night, when I finally finished the book in the midst of two days, instead of feeling triumphant as the final page fell closed, I felt like I needed a bath to scour away the stain that the main character, Humbert, left behind. And even now, years later, I feel as if I regret reading the obsessive ramblings of Humbert's twisted mind; For I must have somewhat, sickly enjoyed a fragment of it, to read it in two days, my Mother told me.

White knuckles from clenching my fist too hard around the useless novel on my desk, I gritted my teeth together in effort to remain silent. I could feel the way my cheeks slowly burned crimson with the suppressed annoyance, but I tried to hide it as I glared at Fitzgerald's lettering upon the deep-blue cover.

"Something upsetting you, Miss?"

A sharpness ricocheted up my chest and I snapped my face to the Professor, all too quickly to be natural. I knew I looked flustered, but the heat of my flesh was a constant reminder. Suddenly, all eyes are on me and there's a certain silence that awaits my contribution as Mr. Ren, notices the shock register on my face before I could control it or hide it away.

A small smile played on his lips, and I furrowed my brows at the rosy tinge. I Swallow all my nerves quickly and clutch onto the novel as if it was a raft to save me.

"Y-Yes, actually." I stutter and nod, trying to calm the hectic beat that pulsated against my fragile ribs, beneath his stare as he tilts his head, urging me to continue. I clear my throat and blink three times before speaking again,

"Why are we writing poems on a novel that validates twisted views and predatory intentions?"

Mr. Ren raises his eyebrows whilst the class watches him fight a smile, which he fails to do so as he chuckles and shakes his head to himself, "Not a fan?" He says, meeting my gaze once more – I tried to ignore the way that when he looked upon me, everyone disappeared, even Rachel Mathews', who turned around and glared at me in a warning.

Knowing her, she probably liked Lolita.

"Well, I am sorry to crush your little snowflake, Miss." Mr. Ren smirks, tilting his head to the side as if he is examining me,

"But, Lolita is a controversial classic, which seduces many readers with its psychological conflict and desires."

My nails imbedded themselves into the cover and my mouth goes dry. His stare was as uncomfortable as a tight belt, and had the same effect on my breathing which became constricted and shallow.

Like always, his words were spoken like they had been formed on smooth gold, in their ordinary sort of, deep way. It was the richness of his tones that warmed me, but the cold meaning of the words he mean't, that made me feel as small and vulnerable as Lolita.

"And that means we are supposed to stretch the dark conflict further?" I fought back, spiteful in my protest as some students either nodded with me or simply, rolled their eyes,

"– Continue the controversies with a sappy poem that reflects on everything in that book, only with a rose-coloured twist?"

Mr. Ren gives me a small smile as if he was trying to only amuse me. His rich dark, chocolate hair had tousled ends that fell just below the nape of his neck and he had strong arched brows that framed his eyelashes that seemed to be the curtain to the real showing of his brown, golden eyes that pulled me in, despite the fury that built, deep in my stomach.

"Maybe," He simply shrugged, leaning in on the desk as he swaps leaning on his palms for curling his fingers around the edge of the wood, "Or with your distaste for the novel, you could change it to your own views – After all, you are the one who is analysing it... Though it seems you already have."

I scowl and scoff.

"I have not analysed it!" I say, glancing only now, around the room to notice the attention that laid upon me, though that was not as soul wrenching as Professor Ren's, "I've only read it once, but that was enough for me." I simply finish, flicking my gaze timidly back to him.

I swear this is the most I have ever spoken in this boring class. Honestly, what's the point? I'm already flunking this course.

"Then maybe give it another read," Professor Ren adds, his voice shifting to a tone, that I cannot figure out what intentions lay beneath it, "Maybe, the vocabulary and dexterity will be able to prove another light to the novel... Maybe, you will find yourself submerged enough that you can easily write a poem – Rose-coloured tinged or political, I do not care. That is why I chose it, Lolita is a novel that changes a perspective every-time, and differs with another's drastically, always."

My shoulders fall inwards and I only sigh in my loss.

I can't even write a poem anymore, so it doesn't matter anyway. He will still hate what ever I scribble upon my sheet, just the same as Professor Roy would – Distaste and sneer in the words or not.

Mr. Ren keeps his stare lingering upon me for the time being, and I only furrow my brows in a confused expression when he refuses to withdraw the brown eyes away, even when the chime-bell signifies the end of the morning lessons.

Just as I begin to pack up my belongings into my bag and throw the strap over my shoulder to walk out the busy door, as everyone else did, I only looked back once to Professor Ren, who met my eyes immediately as he called out,

"Goodbye class. I can't wait to see how your poems turn out."


	4. THREE

𝙰𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎-𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍, 𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎.

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝙻𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚊, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎.

𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘? 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊, 𝚖𝚢 𝙻𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚊 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚍, 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛'𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚎. 𝚂𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏, 𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎.

𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎, 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚓𝚞𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢.

𝙻𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙻𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚊 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠.

𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚖, 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞.

It's sickening. I utterly and tenaciously, feel sick at myself for even coming up with that.

I groan to myself and scrunch up the piece of paper that I scribbled upon, throwing it to the corner of my dorm, where a mountain of rejects began to scale the wall beside the empty framing of a twin bed.

Huffing as I adjusted my notebook on the desk that I studiously bent over, my arm brushes the base of my lamp that illuminated the page in the midst of my dark dorm and burns the flesh of my forearm as the metal had become heated with it's own light from burning too bright, for too long.

Sucking a sharp breath inwards, I cradled my arm with my inky hands from the pen in the cramping grip and sigh as I stared at the blank page, which matched my even emptier mind. 

Arms crossed and brows knitted, the millionth, heavy sigh escaped my still lips, whilst the thousandth page of garishly white, writer's block sat before me, awaiting my pen's next touch but my brain washed away all fragments of a muse as I tried to write another horrible poem about an even worse, novel.

I hadn't read Lolita since I closed the binding the first time, and I wasn't going to dig it out of the dust because my new Literature Professor, who was the most attractive person I have ever seen, asked me to.

_No – No. I can do this._

I nod to myself. 

I flick my tongue to the roof of my mouth and glare at the page, hoping to find the words already hidden in the ghoulish blank. _I could describe her in Humbert's sick and sadistic perspective?_ I shake my head. That's a terrible idea – But... So far I have jotted down every potential twist in the form of terribly written poetry, so what else can I do but that?

"Right. Okay." I mumble to myself, glancing to the digital clock that sat on the far end of my wide, wooden desk which was beginning to peel at the corners, often giving me splinters as if to punish me for my procrastination.

11:42PM on a Thursday.

I'm so unbelievably treacherous with my foolishness.

The poem is due tomorrow, and I only started to attempt it, two hours ago.

Sure, I could just drag it out and complete it tomorrow morning before class, but I know I won't have enough time and just be left with the same, empty brain that I struggle with now – And something deep inside of me, doesn't want any bad attention from the new Professor.

Having to speak to him in Monday's class was enough to prick my cheeks crimson even now, which had left me to just cower in the back of the auditorium yesterday, where we had a midday class – Which we were told to spend working on our poems or reading the novel. But I hadn't brought the novel and spent the entire lesson, only staring at him as he typed lightly on his laptop upon his desk.

When my mind is kicking over and over like an engine who's battery is flat, and I am told to write a poem, it's like being asked to make dinner with bare cupboards. Every-time I ever tried to use my imagination, or my artistry for creation, I always came up empty... But I know I have the ability to write deep within me, somewhere!

It's like a superhero who knows that he can fly, and yet every-time he tries to lift off, he only falls back down to the cement surface in a major clash of disappointment.

The pen feels like it has barbs all around the plastic, but I twine it in my palms anyway as I slowly bring the blue ballpoint back down.

"Attempt, one million." I mumble to myself bitterly, " – Here we go."

𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙰 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛.

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚜𝚗𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚎, 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏–

Damn, what colour eyes did she have?

A thick wall had etched itself into my brain, blocking what little of my creativity had tried to seep out of the thin corners. I close my eyes tightly, trying to etch into the back of my memory and recall Lolita's description from the book that I had read years ago.

Flashes of the colour of Earth's soil flicker through my mind, but that wasn't enough to please the true desire that carried in my own vision. There was something else in the brown, something glistening. Glistening like powerful flames that were licking the sky. 

It was a golden brown, the kind that lightens in the sun. The same kind of brown that belongs in the glass of Mr. Ren's very eyes – But I was trying to ignore that. 

Was Lolita's eyes truely brown? Or was my mind being tugged into a dissociating state that flickered through my Professor's eye shade, like the twisting of a kaleidoscope? 

No, her eyes have to be brown – Why would I be thinking so subconsciously about Mr. Ren? He was good-looking, yes, but not enough to obsess over.

I shake my head slightly and try to refocus. In my mind, those brown eyes are a million hues, so I wonder what the word, "brown," even means as I jot down the words, 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚣𝚎 𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢 – _Ugh, that doesn't even make sense!_

My hand begins ache and sweat around my blue pen as I try to continue my twining road of a poem, where ink scribbles out multiple mistakes and phrases are dropped in the middle of a sentence as I meet another mind block. 

Just when I graze out another sentence, the blue lines terminating the sickening descriptions, I throw my pen to the desk and give up as I rest my head in my trembling hands. 

Suddenly, a knock is heard on the other-side of my wooden door, which matches the endless rows of duplicates in the female's dorm complex. My home was only thirty minutes away from campus, but the blueprints of my childhood home, didn't have enough space between my Father and I – Even if occasionally, I did see him around the courtyards here. 

I glance at my clock once more, 1:15AM. 

What could anyone possibly want at this time?

"Who is it?" I sing-song from the other-side. 

My door is only beside my desk and I lean over in my chair and twist the brass knob forcefully to the right, leaving the hardwood to shriek against my room's floor as it grated open slowly. 

My room immediately lightens up with the flickering illumination coming from the grey, hospital-like hallway, but a dark figure slightly blocks it in the doorway.

Tall, lean and jittery, once the door is sprung open, the figure bounces into the dull light of my room and closes the door quickly behind his back and leans against it – Uncaring of the fact that the material of his white shirt, is rubbing off all of the marker on my white-board that hung below the hooks that held my coats and scarfs.

I roll my eyes to him when he faces me simply and gives me a charming smile. The thin fabric of his shirt clings to his heaving rib-cage whilst he huffs breaths inwards tightly as if he had run a mile in the middle of summer. I watch the muscles tense and loosen as he runs a hand through his hair and makes an exasperated sound of relief into his hands, where the knuckles are always grazed and his fingernails, bit painfully short.

Just as he kicks himself off the back of the door and begins to stroll the small area of my dorm, is when I begin to scold him,

"What are you doing?!" I shout in my best whisper, weary of my neighbours, "You're not allowed to be here!"

Pale and boyishly-handsome. The man turns to me and furrows his eyebrows upon me in fake hurt as he slaps his bony hands up in the air and then down to his sides. 

His hair is boringly rich like mahogany, but there's nothing much special in the brown's of his strands, _unlike the eyes I tried to describe on my forgotten paper._

Everything about him is symmetrical, most obviously, his cheekbones, that shine below his dark eyes, which are large and bold, framed with thick lashes that brush his skin, every-time he blinks.

"Since when do I need an invite to see you?" His voice echoed through the small space of my room and I shushed him straight after, adding to the echo. A look of shock was plastered on the man's face as he tried to act offended and twisted his thin lips into a scowl, which only shot right back up into that familiar, gleeful smile.

Percy Mcarthy. My life-long, best-friend.

Through the toughest of times, he was always there for me, as I was for him too. He knew my family as much as I did and sometimes seemed to know me better than I even know myself.

I was seven the day I met him, and he was freshly eight. I like to think back when we were those children. How shy and uncomfortable he was when he was the skinny, new kid at my school. With cheeks that always seemed flushed and limp hair that did a lively dance when he walked. 

Oh, but how different he is now. All the softness of a child replaced by sharp edges and chiseled lines – but, that same tentativeness had stuck with him, despite what a troublemaker his desire made him be.

"Since the moment I moved into an all girls dormitory..." I tutted, turning around in my chair and gripping the wooden backing to get a good look at him in the dim light. I point a finger at him and try to not mimic the goofy smile etched into his features permanently, "Somewhere, where guys like you are not allowed in."

Percy only throws his head back and blows a big breath out of pursed lips, "Who cares?" He laughs. 

Percy Mcarthy could always guarantee me an instant smile. It was as if all of his energy spilled out of his pores and sunk into mine, with every minimal chuckle he would bellow. 

In the powerful, hazel eyes, there was a certain mischief that danced around the pupils. I could see how it came from deep inside to lighten his eyes the way they would, and then spread into every part of him as his cheeks tinted red in a moment of happiness growing. I huffed a small laugh and shook my head.

"I do!" I try to be serious despite my chortling, "If you got caught and my Father heard about this, I would be in deep shit. I already had to fight hard to get him to agree to my enrolment."

Percy tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes whilst tugging his lips downwards and huffing a, "Huh." Then adding, "I saw your Dad today, actually."

I throw my head back and groan, turning back around to my desk and stretching my fingers before my mess of a page. 

_He was trying to distract me from kicking him out._

There was nothing threatening about Percy, nothing at all. He was an easy listener, a good audience when he would give encouraging feedback laced with intelligent comments. He worked hard, and always got his work done – But his humour was hard to keep up with, sometimes. 

"Really? What a coincidence." I say sarcastically and tilt my head side to side, bobbing it to him behind me, "Did you forget that he also works here?"

"Oh, come on!" Percy chimes, and I begin to hear his converse scuffle across my creaking floorboards, "Why are you being so tense?" 

I sigh at my page, letting it move in my wind, "I have an assignment due tomorrow and I have no clue what to do for it." 

My dorm was a painted grey, the same bland paint used for every corner of this college and even the same shade as my kitchen back home.

In a corner, the small heater I had bought two weeks ago, was blasting at medium, and there was a swivel chair that sat behind it, but the wheel had broken yesterday. 

It had only one, small window, that was tucked unsymmetrically into the corner of the back wall, where my twin bed rested below and a metal skeleton of an identical, was bolted into the floor on the other-side too – One of the perks of being the Chancellor's daughter, is that you don't need to share your dorm with another stressed-out girl. 

But that wasn't all, Percy waltzed over to a bookshelf, bursting with books that clung to the opposite wall, next to the empty bed and assessed my collection, which began to form their very own – Dust. Which he brushed his index finger across.

"Still struggling with that whole, writer's-block thingy?" He asks, nonchalantly as if it was a mere cold.

I draw the page back in front of me and pick up my pen again, flicking it between my fingers as if it could wake up the inner creativity, which had gone into a year-long hibernation, "Yes."

I watch in my peripheral's as Percy's shoulders rise and fall as he huffs a large, conceited breath and hunches over with squinting eyes to read the binders, "Well, not to say, _I told you so_ – But I did warn you about Leo Grey."

My stomach curls torturously at the name.

"Please, Percy." I mutter, refusing to blink even though my lamp was beginning to burn a sphere in my glossing vision, "Spare me for one second."

All at once, everything crashes onto me blandly and dully, once again – Like the aftershock of a tsunami, only more destructive to my heart.

Before my muse turned to ash, it was my love that turned into poison. My mind cycles through emotions faster than a suspended glass falling off the edge of a table. Just as Percy ignores my pleading words, whilst still absorbed in my bookshelf, I am stuck fighting a mixture of competing emotions, each of them vying for dominance upon my scribbled page.

Leo Grey. A name to a lover who caused a wound so deep. He had cut me to the very core and tore out the muse that he once compelled like an orchestra's conductor, only his wands were sharp knives.

This heartbreak is grief that comes in waves, and no matter how much time has passed, it's still gruelling all the same. It is a shard in my guts that never leaves, though perhaps in time the edges will dull, moments like this, when I hear his name unexpectedly, it feels like death just the same as bereavement.

We dated during the last years of high-school, Leo and I, and although there was many warning signs and attributes that were unlike my own, _like the drugs, partying and chaotic mentality,_ I still looked past all of that and refused to acknowledge those warnings and instead, fell for him hard. 

Like all first relationships are in the midst of growing up and coming of age, Leo was the one that I poured my whole love into, but after senior prom, where I saw him in the backseat of his car with the head-cheerleader, what was once whole, became shattered and empty. 

Like my Mother with the scandal of my Father and his assistant, all that became of Leo and I, was anger, suspicion and adverted gazes. I thought that once I moved out to college, I would forget about him quickly, and move on – But he was the one who couldn't let go. 

And once again, just like my Mother, that level of trauma was too much to go back to. Leo broke me and watched me bleed. Even before prom, the lies and manipulations, the increasing level of cruelty, was enough to know that what he and I had, wasn't love – So why bother wasting my time on something that was and will never be, what I need? 

Percy breaks me out of my twining cords and lost tendril-like thoughts that buried back into the deepest soils of my mind. When he sighs, I hear him also move a book from the dust. 

I turn back in my chair and watch him assess the book in his hands. 

"I tried to warn you that Leo grey was a giant, colossal..." He grumbles, wiping the grime from the cover and then chuckling at himself, before he turns it around and shows me it clearly, " –Moby Dick."

My laugh came from my chest like a newly sprung leak, timid at first, stopping and starting, only to erupt and bounce off my grey walls. Percy laughed lightly too, biting his lip in a coy manner as I could tell from the way he rolled his hazel eyes to the ceiling, that he was trying to not laugh at his own joke, louder than I did. But from deep inside his chest came a great shaking motion and his face muscles grew tight as he smiled widely upon me.

"Oh, if only I had listened to you, Percy Mcarthy!" I collect myself and fake swoon, holding a hand to my heart and then to my forehead, "If only I had listened to the guy who cannot keep a girlfriend for more than a week."

His jaw drops but in the gape, is still chuckles. 

"Hey!" He propped the book backwards into the empty place it had come from, "Rose and I lasted a solid... Two weeks, at least."

I scoff and smack my lips tightly together, "I'm not going to say anything about you and Rose." I chime, knowing that relationship, was completely one-sided the whole time – On Percy's behalf, of course.

Percy turns back to the shelf and fixes the novel, Moby Dick, which he had placed, pages outwards. Turning it back around and sliding it in, he says, "But, come on –" He gets distracted for a second, brushing the dust off the other titles beside it, "How long are you going to let the breakup ruin your life?"

"I don't know." I sigh, turning back around to my desk once again, when he pulls out another book and flips it open.

"Look at you!" He exclaims, only he isn't looking at me either, "You're in college now, studying some English junk that you always wanted to! Leo is far away, _doing what ever a low-life does_ , and so is the memory of high-school... Move on, let the past die."

_Let the past die._

This heartbreak feels cold. It feels like concrete drying in my chest. How can something so powerful just die, when the love already did? I don't love Leo. It's as simple as that. But the pain is haunting me as if it was made of tormenting mellows of a sad song, that kept me swayed bleakly to its excruciating tune of my heartstrings. _  
_

My eyes flicker from my page and to my phone which sat dead by my lamp,

"It's hard to let the past die, when the past is constantly trying to call you everyday." I whisper below my breath, but Percy hears me all the same.

He clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, a habit that we had both caught off each-other.

Percy then speaks with an authoritative tone that he had conjured the moment he found out he was a year older than me, "I told you to block his number."

My eyes roll to the back of my head for the hundredth time tonight, 

"Yes – Well, it seems I have a pattern of not listening to you." I mock him, tiredly.

_I still have to finish this damn poem._

Percy only tuts and lets it go. Shrugging and coming over to the desk beside me, leaning against the edge by my poem as he continues to flicker his dark, hazel eyes over the words of whatever book he read.

"How's your Mother, by the way?" He hums into the binding.

I pull my pen from beneath his behind, not caring when the blue ink drew a line across the denim of his jeans.

"She's doing the best she can." I answer lowly, no tone to my voice, "She just published an article about how to dissociate between a cheater and a compulsive liar."

He makes a remarked noise in the back of his throat and nods, 

"There's a difference?" He asks. 

I nod.

"... Huh. Well, next time you speak to her, tell her that I loved it." Percy adds, sighing and closing the book loudly with a forceful thud. 

Dust is sent into the air, as if it was a grimy explosion of some sort and the particles begin to form dances of pirouettes below the beam of my lamp.

The pink cover and golden lettering of the novel that he turned in his hands towards me, almost mocked my poem below.

"– Though, not as much as this." Percy smirks and smacks the back of my head with it lightly. 

I flinch with the soft contact and cry out like a child, who was having a tantrum just from the fear, not the pain.

"Ugh, put that away!" I scoff, holding the back of my head tightly after the blow.

Percy gives me that low laugh once more, his eyes squinting as his smile widens across his perfect face. 

"Oh, don't be silly." He bops me in the nose with the corner of it, "It's a great book... Maybe, you could draw upon it for some inspiration for your assignment."

Hard, velvet covering, a long in-built strand of silk peeked out of the several, white pages, each gentle to the fingertips, the red string being a bookmark of some-sort. Upon those pages was the wisdom and creation of my Mother's once, prosperous soul; Where those feelings of love channelled through great knowledge and a lifetime of poetic melodies. 

In that humble ink was the liveliness of her brain, how her synapses danced to the grand and heartfelt words. That book, it was what a person could accomplish in decades if their soul was forever as pure as it was before a heartbreak. Before she lost the muse, as I had lost mine as-well.

I swallow roughly and break my eyes away from the title, 

"I wish I could," I croak, shaking my head and glaring instead at my page, once again, "But I have to write about Lolita."

"Perfect!" Percy yells with a grand smile and I flinch at his voice, scolding him with a slant of my eyes and a twisted mouth, "What? Lolita's a love story? Your Mother's poems... They're also love stories?" He furrows at my expression.

My eyes widen and I groan, "No! Lolita is not a love story!"

Falling into an endless rabbit hole of why Lolita is a novel filled with controversial and horrific features. I am lost in the maze of where my mind resorted to, that day in-front of my new, handsome, Professor – But I left him out of my lecture, which Percy eventually cut short.

"Okay – Okay!" He says defectively, holding his arms up defensively, the pink book still held between his left hand, "I'm sorry, but just to remind you, I didn't read it whist studying Literature."

He drops the book onto the table and it clunks over my page, but I rip the white, crinkled sheet from beneath it and shove the book off my desk, which then fell into my opened, sprawled book-bag.

We both cock an eyebrow at my shot, but ignore it either-way.

"Anyway, I've got to get going, I have an early lecture tomorrow – Well, today." Percy suddenly stands, shoving his hands that are covered in dust, into his tight, denim back-pockets.

My shoulders fall slack, "Alright – I guess I'll see you Friday before our classes?" I hum, giving him a small smile as he walks over to the door and twists the brass knob, put doesn't pull it open just yet.

"Yes, see you then." He nods. 

Then opening the door, it squeals the same way it always did and we both grimace at the horrible sound.

I wave him a goodbye and he does the same, disappearing behind the closing door.

But just as the door is about to click into place and the silence overbears my tired, stressed soul, Percy pushes back into the room, curling around the doorway and saying one last sentence before he curls back out of sight and shuts the door finally,

"Oh, and by the way, Lolita had grey eyes... Not brown."

I gasped and picked my page up before my drooping eyes.

Bronze. Coffee. Mousy. Fawn. Caramel. Auburn. Chocolate. Brown Eyes. That's all I wrote about in the chords of a slanted poem. And yet, he was right. Lolita had grey eyes, I remember it now. 

Why on Earth, did I imagine brown eyes?

My lips part and I drop the page to the floor.

I truely was writing about Professor Ren's, all along. 


	5. FOUR

My eyes are heavy and the grey tinge beneath them is seeping down into my blood painfully, as if it was sucking all of the life out of the crimson with the silver drowse. 

The tiredness is consuming. The stress is overwhelming. And with both of them forming a bitter concoction, it creates a brutal feeling that makes my bones seem as if they are being weighed down by cement and my eyes drawn low by heavy anchors.

I woke up this morning, curled over my desk with paper stuck to my cheek and blue ink staining my lips and tongue, as my chewed up pen was clenched between my teeth even in the midst of a heavy, much-needed slumber. 

_I woke up this morning,_ 25 minutes before my early Literature class was about to begin.

20 minutes later and struck with panic as I hurry across the wet grass of the campus, with a tired heart beating incredibly loud, as loud as my boots when they then lunge across the halls to find my classroom, I am clinging onto my notebook as tight as I can, avoiding the temptation to smack it against my head in annoyance. 

I fell asleep over my page, and yet, not even my dreams could sprawl a hint of imagination across the blank lines. Now, I'm left with nothing! Nothing but a thinning notebook which little torn pieces from the binder, continue to flutter to the ground like snow. 

I push the door to the classroom open with a low huff and give myself a short moment to calm as I stand still in the doorway, assessing the room as my skin prickled with apprehension of what was to come.

The long rows are empty, other than a couple of lonesome faces or Rachel and her friend, talking in hushed tones at the desk in the front. The clock on the wall, ticks as if it is a countdown to a bomb, I glance at it quickly and then begin to make my way to the back of the room to the tables as far away from the new Professor, who also hadn't yet arrived.

The classroom is so warm after the wintry chill outside, but I am still nearly drawn to a hassled sweat. I speed by Rachel, but I am still able to make out her whispers just before they fade in the distance of my thudding feet. 

It seems, I wasn't the only one who was stunned by Mr. Ren's handsomeness, because she was beaming about a certain Professor to the girl beside her. 

I threw my book-bag onto the table lazily and dragged the chair out with a loud shriek of its metal legs on the floors. I wince slightly at the sound, and raise a hand of sorry to the boy two rows ahead, who turned and glared daggers. 

Rolling my eyes, I sigh and sit down before my knees buckle out or time stretches so thin, it snaps completely. Placing my notebook solemnly in-front of me, I glance to the door once, dreading the nauseating hour of education awaiting me. 

This stupid poem is the first assignment collected by Mr. Ren, and I am in desperate needs of improving my grades before my Father finds out and kicks me out of his college. 

It's all up to the next minutes of awaiting his arrival. Will Mr. Ren ask for the papers, the moment he steps through the doors? Or will I have some more time to spare, as he might ask for them at the end of the lesson? 

With a face as expressionless as corpse, I swallowed the lump in my throat and untucked my pen from behind my ear, bringing it down to the paper to try and write something worthy of handing in – I may have only 2 minutes exactly, as the room begins to fill, or instead, at least an hour at most, but no amount of time seems to matter, for my mind is completely blank anyway.

"Come on." I mumble to myself, tipping the end of my pen to my lips, but quickly snatching it away when I remember how long it took to try and remove the ink this morning. 

When the page resembles a drawing coming from a 2 year old, after I had violently scribbled out every word that I wrote in the matter of minutes, I narrowed my eyes at the blank page, and it only stares back – It's bleak blue coarse of lines and hidden words, taunting me that I will never be able to write anything good enough to share. 

My eyes are burning and watery at the same time. I feel as if there's a million stones being placed on my lungs, and yet I am breathing almost more than usual. Oh, wait – Nope, I am definitely hyperventilating. Why can't I hear anything but my own breathing? 

When I turn the pen to a new angle and start another row on another page, the sweat on my palms, is enough for the plastic to drop in my grip. 

My skin is burning and I feel as if I am on fire as I watch every new arrival, pull out a bundle of poems and set them on their desks, ready to hand in to the incredibly late, Professor. 

My body needs to rest yet my mind needs it to move, to burn the anxiety right out. _Think. Think. Think_ – I chant in my head, tapping the pen to my lips, no longer caring but instead, ready to even stab my creativity out of the trappings of my veins.

I can't fail. I've already handed in enough junk to Mr. Roy, and surely handing in nothing to Mr. Ren, isn't a good image, especially if along the lines, I am going to have to ask for extra tasks for extra credit to bunch up together in order to actually pass this course. 

Without rest, my body is spiralling into exhaustion, but without my muse, my life is falling into shattered pieces.

One last person walks through the doors, the tallest of them all and most handsome. 

Professor Ren.

I rip my jacket off and place it on the back of my chair, uncaring when it falls to the floor as my cheeks tint a fleshy rose. All at once the air swirls with a cinnamon perfume, the same flavour that would be his eyes if they had a taste. 

My hands jitter by my page and I'm glad that I have made the back desk my new spot, for if he saw the way my eyes became those of stars, in awe of him and all of his roughness... I would, most definitely, boot myself out of this college, before my Father ever could for failing. 

"Morning." He greeted to no-one in particular, with the low rumble of his voice that resembled an avalanche falling on virgin snow. 

His eyes scan the faces in the room and I turn away before it becomes too, overwhelming – I refuse to look at him, he's even more of a distraction. 

But luck seemed to be on my side for the first time this morning, for he hadn't asked us for our assignments yet – He must want them at the end of class.

I bite the inside of my cheek as he begins his lesson with that soothing voice of his. I flickered my gaze to the back of Rachel's blonde waterfall of hair. 

Was she staring in a lecherous manner towards him with as much desire as I was right now? Or was she able to keep her wandering eyes at bay? Because she was so close to his broad shoulders and hands that curled around the marker that he brought to the board, like it was the deadliest tool of his weaponry. 

I was attracted to him with the kind of heady trance that brings a butterfly to nectar. He's not usually the kind of man I fantasise about. For starters, he was exactly that. A man. A full blown, full grown, man.

And secondly, he's brunette and I've always liked blondes. I usually always lust after blue eyed boy's with a loose grip on their feelings, not men with deep brown eyes and a handle on business and proper words.

I watch him cross the crowded room to the right, flicking the lights off and then leaning against the wall. He watches the video he had displayed for the class, with such strong thought as he submerges into a long video about something that he had already learnt a thousand times before. 

He hasn't seen me yet so I gaze freely. 

He's not particularly special looking, but to me he stands out like a flame in a cave, capturing what little breath I have and scorching my prickled skin. 

There's something about him, a slight confidence and inflated ego that is hidden by the way he casually moves, as if he owns this world.

I scowl and narrow my eyes in the dark with my pen gripping tightly in the curl of my hand. _Get your head together!_ I spit to my roaming thoughts. 

He's way older than me and he's my Professor! There's no reason for me to be thinking this way, but that doesn't stop the patter of my heart as he turns his face and glances at me quickly. 

My gaze must have felt like a beacon, burning upon him for so long. 

I snap my face to my notebook once more. 

I've only got two bare pages left. 

I have to write.

I bring my pen back down to the lines, and etch the first thing upon my mind.

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚜𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜?

"How'd your poem turn out?"

I visibly jump at the hushed voice and my eyes blow incredibly wide. 

Suddenly, Mr. Ren is curled across the edge of my desk, his toned arms sneaking out of the black, long sleeve t-shirt that he wore, as he folded them on the table and leaned upon the twining cords that poked out of the pale flesh. 

My mouth goes dry and I blink at least a hundred times at him in the matter of only two seconds, trying to determine if he is really here, or my tired imagination had finally surged out and pretended that he was staring so deeply into my own eyes, when in fact, he should be submerged in the video that everyone else was. 

I forcefully bite down on my cheek once more. He's really, real and he's really here. I flicker my sight across the back of everyone else's heads, nobody else even cares to glance at us. 

"I-I" I stutter incoherently as I attempt to pull all of my messy self together and face him once more, "Pardon?"

I sucked in a sharp breath.

The windows behind his head, swirled around my vision, almost blinding me with a magnifying awe as if they were illuminating him like a beaconing halo of exuberance. 

Even under the angry clouds and drizzle, he looks like sunshine.

I could see wind-stirred waves in his eyes of a deep, golden ocean. And I suddenly believe that if one were brave enough to enter their depths, all else would blur and you'd fall so deep in love, that you'd choose to stay there no matter what and just swim in the warm colour around the black. 

He watches how I muddle my words and blush uncontrollably, but only gives me a crooked smirk of knowing. I gulp and cover the one line on my page. 

"Your poem?" He asks, sending my stomach on a rollercoaster. No – Not now, it's not ready! I plead in my own mind, but he cuts my inner cries short, "How did you go on it? You seemed displeased with the task, over the past couple of lessons."

Short-term relief spread across my chest like a wildfire, but my own lie that burst through my mouth without thinking, flooded the relief and made the seeds of misery grow in the tortured soil, 

"Oh, my poem..." I nodded, the pages of drawn out attempts, tickling my forearm that covered it, "– It's good?" I say bashfully in a questioning tone.

_Good?!_

Well – I have really dug myself a grave now! I don't even have a paper to hand in, let alone a good one! 

How foolish in his gaze must I be? It's like the freckles upon his face, spell out to me, that I must impress him.

"It's good?" He hums, giving me a small smile with the raising of his eyebrows. 

With my own nerves, I create a one sided tension in the air, one so thick that it smothers my tongue and makes me feel as if I am incapable of using it as I just nod pathetically to him. 

He mimics my nod as his brown eyes slowly fall to the notebook beneath my crossed arms and he asks, "Is it completed?" He drawls slowly, licking his fleshy lips then back to me.

I fall into a hazy desire as I hallucinate to the tongue that pokes out momentarily and wets the rosy, bottom lip as if it was glistening it with an invitation. 

I dug my fingernails into the flesh of my forearms, the plastic pen, surely bruising between my fingers as I crushed it. I forced a smile, although it hurt the muscles beneath the silver of my tired eyes.

"... Yes."

_Another lie._

Right here, this close, I can almost feel his cool breath fan my face and I bask in the subtle wind from his lungs. He adjusts himself on the table, standing straighter as if his forearms had become dead with his own weight, and with this new angle I have to crane my neck to properly look at his face. 

"What's it about?" Mr. Ren asks lowly, trying to keep his brute of a tone, minimal beneath the high-pitched one, coming from the author who talked in the video about her success. 

I huff a nervous laugh and look at his collarbones that slightly poked out beneath the black fabric, standing proud above the hard muscles. 

I gulp.

"Lolita?" My voice comes across unsure and I know with that heavy stare, he can tell that too.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. 

_I want to live in the creases of his smile._

"I sure hope it is. That's what I asked it to be on." Professor Ren chimes, folding his arms across his broad chest again, "I meant, in what aspect or theme did you write it in?"

My cheeks blush brutally red in my shame. 

"O-Oh." I stutter, biting my bottom lip in threat to keep my fake smile from falling as I feel the apple's of my cheeks tense. 

In what aspect did I write it in? I haven't written it at all! And one of the main reasons that I hadn't – Other than the fact, that I simply, cannot write at all anymore – Is that all I had ever known poems to be about, from my Mother's beautiful words, is love. 

And in my mind, what Lolita and Humbert had wasn't love.

_Love._

"Love." I croaked, blinking in the light of his eyes and giving him a reassuring smile, only to try and reassure myself instead. 

Suddenly, the sound of the video on the screen, is wiped blank in my own ears, muffled to extraordinary as he and I stared at each-other for what seemed like eternity, until he finally dropped his gaze and looked taken aback – As if my singular word had finally sunken into his reflexes. 

Something flashes across his face quickly, but the moment it is there in the porcelain flesh and enchanting eyes, it is gone before I can inspect it as Mr. Ren covers it with another, knowing-full smirk.

"Ah." He nods, "Well, I must say, I am very intrigued to read it."

"So am I." 

"What?" He asks and I gasp quietly to myself and shake my head, wishing I could swipe away my previous words, which had escaped before I could lock them up and think about them first.

"I mean –" I drag, "I am excited for you to read it too."

My voice was quieter now, less sure, and when he only furrowed his brows and nodded, a gentle flush of pink rose across my neck and chest as I then watched his eyes slowly drag themselves to my lips that trembled before him.

A sharpness ricocheted up my chest and I turned my face away to the video which was nearly finished, all too quickly to be natural. 

I knew I looked flustered, but the heat of my flesh was a constant reminder that his eyes were still upon me. 

I watch him in my peripheral's, and suddenly, he looks away before the brown in his eyes can set me on fire and I breathe a sigh of relief as he merely nods once more and takes long strides back to the front of the room, cutting the ending of the video short and sending the projector's blind into its compartment. 

I feel as if I had just run a marathon as I pant to my page and wonder in the white, what had just happened. 

Professor Ren clears his throat at the front of the room, and keeps his back facing the class for a short, suspended second as he rubs his face in his large, inviting hands. 

"Right –" He turns to the audience of bored eyes, "I hope you got everything from that clip but if you didn't, the link will be up on the college's portal."

I ignore the rest of his words as they begin to echo in my mind like a thousand, booming voices that sing to my eventual fate. 

My palm opens around the pen in my hand and I only notice now, that I had crushed the plastic to long pieces, leaving only the skeleton of the ink tube in my hands as the pieces fall upon my blank page.

"Well, that's the end of the lesson I had planned," I hear Professor Ren chuckle, but it didn't resemble the light and meaningful way he had to me, 

"So, I guess, we can cut this class short. Will you all just hand in your poetry assignments and then you're all free to leave early." He adds.

His words were a painful blow to my guts and chest, almost leaving me winded as I sat rigid in my seat. Utterly paralysed, I swallowed and swallowed, trying to prevent myself from gasping in fear. 

When everyone began to collect and pack their things, was when my mind had become electrified and I sprung my hand into my bag, in search for a new pen. 

I have to write something! Anything!

Rummaging the useless contents inside for a pen, only through my parted lips, did I draw tiny gasps as some classmates began to pass Mr. Ren their poems as he sat at his desk, then walking out the door. 

I cursed to myself. My hand brushes the other notebook in my bag and I pull it out, silently praying that a pen will be clipped onto the side, but when only pink velvet meets my eyes, I pull it completely out and let it sprawl over my last two pages. 

A pen falls out of my bag like fate, just when I recognise the book beneath the certain of dust that tried to bury it.

My Mother's love poetry. 

There is a fleeting moment as I come into complete consciousness, the shiver that runs up my spine, pushing away any sense of tiredness as it shocks me completely awake. A tight lump forms in my throat and I try to gulp it down, but as the time only goes and goes, the apprehension and fear in my throat, only stays.

The misery washes over my body like harsh waves crashing onto soft sand. Each wave is icy cold and sends jolts into my heart as I drown on the water which rises like that same lump in my throat.

All the reasons not to do this come flooding in but as my hand reaches for the new, black pen, it is as if my body chemistry just sent them a middle finger. 

I feel the soft panic that can grow or fade depending on what I do next, but I still jot down the only poem I can remember off by heart, onto the lines of my notebook.

It seems that my Father and I, may have more in common than I had already resumed, for as I shoved the pink book back into my back and popped the lid of my pen back on, then sliding it into its new home behind my ear – I realised that we may both have the same weakness in that, we both subdue to the kryptonite of cheating.

The poem was once dedicated to my Father and his name was in the title, but I swapped it for something much more fitting. 

When I placed it upon the stack in Mr. Ren's hands, I didn't give him a single glance as I almost bolted to the door before he could see the nervous sweat forming across the top of my forehead. 

Just when I reach the door and push it open, the classroom now empty, he calls out to me with that deep, suffocating voice of his, 

My heart pierces itself dangerously, as if it was holding a dagger and ready to take myself out. 

I turn around slowly, already fretting that he had caught me, "Yes, Sir?"

Mr. Ren stands tall in his tight slacks and warm shirt that did nothing to cover the toned body beneath it. With only he and I, in this empty room, mixed with my nervous breath and unsteady chest, he tilted his head to the side and smiled to me warmly, despite the ice in my guts. 

"You shouldn't suck on that." He simply said, and for a second, I thought I misheard him as I contorted my face and furrowed my brows.

"Huh?" 

He laughed low and the sound seemed to tremble through my chest as he pointed to the pen that was tucked behind my ear. 

"You shouldn't suck on your pen." Mr. Ren says, meeting my eyes and clenching the angles of his jaw, "Your lips are blue."

I snap my hand to my lips immediately and for the thousandth time in this past hour, turn a deep red before him. "Oh!" I chortled, "Um – Yes. It's a habit that I've got to quit."

A weight is carried off my shoulders, but as I glance to the stack in his hands, where my plagiarised poem sits upon the top innocently, it seems to erupt in flames in my own mind, screaming for the Professor to expel me right away. 

Mr. Ren begins to speak once more, but I cut him off quickly with a nervous smile and shaking limbs that curl around the door, begging to leave.

"I have got to go!" I snap timidly, "See you tomorrow, Sir." I farewell and close the door behind me, almost running down the hall. 

My feet patter across the courtyards, the same way they did this morning, but with more effort to create as much distance between Mr. Ren, my plagiarised poem, and I, as possible. 

There's a very slim chance that he would ever notice that it was a poem published in a collection from 7 years ago. Most of my Mother's fan's were women, who were the ages 40 and over. 

_Yes, he won't know._ I have to tell myself. 

When I finally get back to my dorm, I slam my door shut and lean against it the same way Percy had early this morning. 

I sigh to myself and try to calm the nerves that glide through my veins and attack all my blood cells.

When I realised that I had forgotten my jacket in the classroom, I didn't turn back to go get it, for I fretted that in there, right now, Professor Ren was already reading the poem that I had swapped with my own, messy, black writing:

𝙻𝙾𝙻𝙸𝚃𝙰  


𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

𝙺𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

𝙻𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎.

𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐.

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎.

𝚂𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚜. 

𝚆𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜.


	6. FIVE

It's like the winds of regretful gales had shunned me for my sins as I walked through the chilly courtyards of the campus, Percy by my side and a drawing darkness eloping the retreating sun.

It's late into the evening, where day is slowly falling to night on this bland Friday, that comes like the days had before. Percy and I, always had our classes scheduled on this time on the last weekday, and although our classrooms were far apart, we still made it our new ritual to walk each-other to our destinations – Last week, I had walked him to his Tech class over in the West-Wing of campus, so today, he has to walk me to my Literature class over in the East.

The path is a brick-laid pavement that is so rotten and cracked, it undulates with the earth around it, leading into the even blanker classrooms. The sky above is of a slate grey, threatening us below with the temptation of brisk rainfall, which I can even smell now – Although it is yet to come as only the thrashing and loud winds, sway Percy and I, side by side, leaving us pushing against it to get to my class, which I am almost late for.

Even the short-cut grass that meets the stone paving which the student's walk, is rustling slight as the trees sway with their emerald wands. I cling onto the straps of my backpack with my right arm linked into the crook of Percy's elbow as the wind blows and sings its harrowing song to stir my already, uneasy emotions – There's an ever-present fear building in my chest, like uneasy winds only these ones are coldly thrashing upon my beating heart.

Even though I act like I am not, as I nod and hum to Percy's gasping explanations that someone from our high-school is now an assisting teacher to the theatre department – _Something that I honestly, couldn't care less about_ – I'm terrified that the moment I walk into class, Mr. Ren will be seated at his desk, with my Father standing next to him, awaiting my arrival with his unloving, Wife's poem in his hand that I had pretended was my own.

I had been kept up all night with that nightmare of fabrication that still haunts me like a howling ghost. My mind replaying that scene over and over, every-time I even blinked – But I have to tell myself, _that I will be fine._

Nobody should know. It's a far stretch that Mr. Ren will realise, and nobody in class, if on the slight chance they read it, would know that it was my Mother's. So far, it seems, only Percy knows about my Mother's poetry, and if anyone had the slightest inkling to wish to know who my Father had married, I am sure they would come across her new job of writing pointless articles, before her previous novels.

My lips are trembling and my hair is sticking to it, thanks to the wind, but once Percy and I walk into the East-Wing, where a collection of classrooms were twined in the narrowing halls, the wind is silenced in the door's closure and only Percy's sharp breath fans my face.

"Jeez!" He sucks a sharp breath in, untangling our arms and rubbing his purple fingers together, "It's cold out there, I thought we were going to get blown over for one second."

I give him a small, breathly laugh that clouds slightly in the cold air that lingers inside, "Yeah." I nod, shaking my head with a big, but nervous, smile, "Autumn must be giving us the last goodbye."

Percy widens his eyes and huffs, "And hello, winter!" He chimes, shaking his head to his footing that strides the floors, next to my own, "I can't believe you didn't even wear a jacket."

Giving me a small shove into my side, I almost fall into the man that walks by, but I quickly avoid a collision by side stepping out of his path and shoving back at Percy who laughs so loud, his tone bounces off the walls and glides along the floors.

I tug at his jacket around me, which pools around the wrists of my arms and bunches up awfully around my shoulders. Quickly after the goosebumps had littered my skin back in the courtyards, he had insisted I wear his jacket along the way to class, even despite my protests.

I pull at the collar and bite back the smile as I roll my eyes when he and I begin to walk, shoulder to shoulder, once again.

"I told you, I forgot my jacket yesterday in the classroom," I sighed.

Percy throws his head back and makes a gurgled noise, "And that's your only jacket?" He laughs at my disadvantaged – I packed light – Then turning back to me and shoulder gliding away from the passerby's, he gives me the cheeky expression that his eyes would always plaster with the assistance of his slanting lips, "You do know that you're going to have to buy another one now, or at least... Go home and get another before winter comes."

I roll my eyes at his words as the uneasy feeling in my stomach only grows at the mention of going home. Where the walls are as silent as the love and the photographs that litter them, are only a distant memory of what life once was.

I swallow down the lump that slowly grows in my throat and pick nervously at the cuffs of his jumper that fall by my hands, "My jacket might still be there, I only left it in the classroom yesterday." I point out hopefully.

Percy shakes his head and chuckles, "Oh, that jacket is long gone!" He drags his words to add emphasis, "Remember that time I left my beanie in class for only twenty minutes, and then next thing I know, it's gone!"

I contort my features and shake my head, deep in thought at the memory of him, _thankfully_ , loosing his old and frayed, blue beanie, "Thank God for that," I sarcastically say, keeping my gaze on the door at the end of the hall, where my class has already all slunk into without me, "That beanie was disgusting, it was about time that you parted ways with that thing."

Just when we reach my classroom, where the door is closed, signifying I was already late, Percy tilts his head and fakes an angry face at my disgust for his beloved, "Now, that's not very nice, is it?" He mocks, almost sounding like my Father. But when he leans casually against the door and gives me a warm smile, I know he is anything but, even if he does say, "Get to class, you're already late."

I chuckle and shake my head, already beginning to pull off his jacket around my shoulders, but he stops me quickly, leaning off the door and holding his arms out in protest, "Keep it for now, you need it more than me." Percy laughs, already backing away.

I groan, "I don't need it." I call out to him, as he begins to fall back into the crowd, knowing what he was doing as I couldn't even throw him the material from here. Just when he disappears completely, back into the other direction we had just come from, is when I tiredly mumble the rest beneath my breath, "– Have some hope that my jacket is inside..."

My shoulders droop in the sag of his clothes, tutting to myself and swallowing down the guilt.

Percy is too nice sometimes, I don't deserve him.

Turning back to the door, I take a deep and hesitated breath inwards at the doorknob, silently praying in the brass of my distorted reflection, that today will be like any other day of class – And hopefully, not my last.

I can hear Mr. Ren's heavy and deep voice even through the painted hardwood, and it takes a few thumps of my quickened heart, until I finally pulled the strings of my withdrawing courage together and tied them tightly into a knot, as I curled my fingers around the doorhandles, leaving my reflection to fade beneath my shaking hands that clung carefully in the centre.

There's a fearful artist inside of me that paints another picture inside my hardwired mind, one where, after opening the door, I am met with every member of my class standing with crossed-arms and scowling features, whilst Mr. Ren is reading out my poem to them all – But as I shake that dreadful, theory away, I turn and push against the door before my plagiarising heart, backs away from the classroom completely.

The doorknob only twists halfway, and I practically squash against the entry. It was locked.

I sigh a bleated breath of annoyance and only try to pathetically, jingle the brass a couple more times, before giving into the brooding defeat and leaning my head onto the door, before curling my fingers into a fist and knocking it by my head.

I wanted the least amount of attention possible to my lateness, but as I lift my head off the door to Mr. Ren's sudden silence, I know that is now impossible.

I practice my fake smile with tight lips stretching before the feet even begin to move over beneath the thinning light below the hardwood and above the floors. There's a suspended moment when the person on the other-side, blocks that frail light and just when my lips droop is when the knob begins to click unlocked and turn, my smile then plastered on forcefully as it turned almost rhythmically, then scraping the wood behind it.

The door soon joined in with a lullaby of loud creaks and all at once, Professor Ren was the downfall to my smile that quivered before him.

Time seems to slow incredibly, but the video that begins to play behind his head, signifies it is still ordinary in space as his eyes land to mine and narrow.

With defined vagueness but also somehow, absolute clarity, the dirty brown seamlessly blended into the spiked pupils within them. It was like a sorcerer's dream, a bewitching combination that made me feel that this was where fate had ended my college experience – I awaited the harsh scolding that should follow the rosy tinge of his inviting lips, but that doesn't follow as everyone's attention falls to the video and his, only to me.

"You're late." Is all my Professor, simply says – His voice stern, never-less, but that didn't strike the relief that raised in my guts and shot right into the torture of my heart.

Smile, now reassuringly, genuine, I still stuttered before the handsome, older man, "Yes, Sir." I shake my head and faked guilt, "The wind's seem to be so harsh, I found it troublesome to get here on time, without being blown over." I laugh, but he doesn't even flinch his deadpanned features. I gulp.

He raises his brow, holding his arm up the side of the doorframe, leaving me as locked out as the deadbolt in the knob did. Then, Mr. Ren exhales an exasperated and clearly, irritated smile and says, "It seems everyone else had managed getting here on time–" Brown eyes then, survey the oversized jacket around my frame, which was so obviously, not mine, "Maybe, you need a lesson on how to manage your time and energy, instead of the themes and expressions that I will be teaching today – _Along with other things, of course."_ He adds.

My stomach does an incredible drop, resembling the sharp shoot of the rollercoaster my Father had taken me on when I was merely twelve. And just as I lick my dry lips and open my mouth to an incoherent jumble of stutters, he cuts me off with a raised finger and moves halfway out of the door and to the side,

"Just get inside," He says with his disappointed tone, making me feel the very age I was on that rollercoaster and it didn't help that I also felt barely visible beneath the pooling of Percy's jacket as Mr. Ren continues, "You've already missed too much time than necessary."

Swallowing roughly and nodding quicker than the time it takes for the next second to fall to another, I slide past him, ducking beneath his outstretched arm and turn crimson when my hair brushes his flesh. Awkwardly trudging up the steps to the back tables, I ignore everyones gaze, especially Rachel's and her unnamed friend's, who then seem to both snicker at the pink splatter below my cheekbones.

Pulling out the chair of my newly acclaimed spot at the back, away from Mr. Ren's scorching eyes, I glance eerily for a moment in search for my own jacket, but come across nothing.

_Percy was right, I was never seeing that jacket again. Great._

The lesson continued with an overbearing sense of boredom that sunk into my page of meaningless doodles and swirls of my pen that didn't listen to the tone of Mr. Ren, who talked through the lesson, often tearing me out of my lack of attention with the gestures of his big hands that he would use somehow, poetically as he spoke.

Poetically. I bite my bottom lip softly and glance to my mess of a notebook. Had I truely gotten away with not writing my own poem, or had Professor Ren not yet graded them?

For my own sake, I prayed to every God in the Universe, that it was the first option and not the last... I cannot even imagine the consequences that would result if I got caught.

When Mr. Ren finally told the class, they could spend the rest of the lesson to go over notes and the chapters left over by Professor Roy, I didn't make much of an effort to tear my gaze away from the window beside me.

Washed blank with the black sky, only the falling of pattering rain glazed down the glass, morphing in my tired gaze, the letters of my own apprehensions as I noticed Mr. Ren, eventually pull himself away from his desk, to go over to student's tables and help them where-ever they needed.

Panicking when he is making his way over, I grabbed the textbook out of my bag and opened it hurriedly, above my notebook that didn't have a single etching of today's notes. Leaning over the book and pretending to be submerged in the boring text, I hid behind my own hair and leaned upon my own fists to cover the crimson that flooded my cheeks, when Mr. Ren, casually leaned against the edge of my table.

Placing his large hand near the tip of my book, I hitch my breath at the sight of only the fingers that casually lean upon the graffitied desk. Fingers long and pale, his nails are cut short and not a speck of dirt is trapped beneath them, but upon the porcelain skin, is a lot of splotches or lines of ink, proving that he spent all day with a black pen twined between his thumb and forefinger, where the ink blots where predominantly worse.

As if I was a palm-reader, although that wasn't shown to me directly, the soft skin of the back of his hand, had long lines of blue-corded veins that were entranced beneath the white, and tendons that flexed and withdrew before the expansion of my eyes.

When his tender voice came from above me, I glanced upwards so slowly, I must resemble a slow-motion shot to him in my nervousness. I don't know what singular thing about his beauty that entranced me so whole, but the baring of his brown eyes are enough to lock me in sight.

"Miss," He breathes and with that, I loose all of my own from the grip of my lungs, "Do you need any help?"

My lips part and with the openness, it seems my tongue had formed into sandpaper as the rest of my mouth became a desert. I shake my head and give him a trembling smile, the heat of my face, warmer than any Sahara, even the one past my lips.

"No, T-Thank you." I stutter, then adding the last bit far too late, that it was embarrassing, "Sir."

Mr. Ren, nods carefully, keeping his eyes upon the side of my face as I glance awkwardly back to my textbook, that was on a page which had nothing to do with this lesson.

He sighs, deep below his chest and in the rumble, I wondered for a second, whether it truely came from his strong frame or the howling winds outside. Then, audibly hearing him swallow and shuffle upon the desk, he suddenly, moves his hand to the edge of my book and pulls it slowly from beneath my elbows.

Furrowing my brows and clearing my throat, I looked back to him as he disregarded the book back onto the table as if what he had just done, had never happened at all. Then, he simply slips off of the edge of the table casually, clearing his throat also, and keeping his heavy gaze upon me as he utters the most soul-baring sentence I think I could hear,

"See me after class."

As I watch his back walk away and over to the front of the class again, it takes a while for his damaging words to strike upon my soul. The panic starts out as thin as paper, something my fingers can pierce breathing holes in as I finally settle upon the words. But then all at once, the panic is a deluge of ice water surrounding every vessel of my soul that I try to hide beneath that same page, but its only becoming soggy and seeping through the holes I had caused. Creeping higher and sinking further until it passes my mouth and nose, making me feel suffocated by the intentions of the phrase.

Inside, I am drowning, and that's when the attack becomes absolute and mighty in its power, shutting my body down as fast as punching an already winded, chest.

My heart and stomach twisted and folded into one torturously, confining me to a fearful core and trampling upon all my confidence like a thousand heels.

I suddenly feel like Humbert in Lolita, the moment he finds out that she has gone missing from the hospital – Fleeing there with a heavy heart and a body full of incredible panic, a feeling like nothing before that leaves him in a hallucinating state, where he is explained to be throwing himself on the floor, sobbing, screaming, punching and hassling with the doctors, anything he can do, to try and make this panic go away – And although I cannot do any of those things to get this sharp feeling of strained anxiety out of my system that it highjacks painfully, I simply instead, just stay seated in my chair, which slowly feels like it is being melted to the ground by the heat of my raging, crimson cheeks.

The room starts to spin around him at the forefront of my vision and mind, faster than all the hands on the hanging wall-clock, that seems to even fly by in this wretched emotion.

 _See me after class._ His voice twines over every thought in my mind, screaming over and shouting them, even though he said them so softly, yet deadly. And when I begin to walk down to the front of the classroom, the tables empty, leaving and only him, me and my raging, thudding heart to be left, I grip the straps of my bag tightly, awaiting the brute force of his soon scolding.

Just when I reach the edge of his desk, where he sits tucked beneath, hunched over a collection of papers, which he writes in red pen upon. I suck a shaky, breath inwards, but still, it doesn't soothe the rattle of my blood that courses with the design of nerves, it only shakes loud enough in the tension, when he sighs and glances up to me.

I almost gasp just at his angel eyes, but the reflection of me in the pupils, is like the devil is rubbing his hands coldly with glee, making the colour around the black, shine sinisterly.

I'm waving home a return, the marching bands of my Father's victory singing a song for my defeat, but smashing their drums for his victory. This is it. I've been caught and I'm going home – My Father constantly bickered with me, telling me he didn't think I was capable of taking this course, and though I had that same crippling discouragement inside, I still did it to only spite him.

And now look, he's won again. First by wrecking my Mother's ability and muse to write, and now my own – Leaving me to plagiarise, and eventually get caught by my brooding and handsome, Professor, who's facial expression was so deadpanned, that it was laying my fear bare upon my own features, which he assessed with a casual flicking of his deep, brown eyes.

Mr. Ren relaxes his shoulders and leans back casually in his chair, almost swinging on the wooden feet, but his legs were too long beneath the desk, to ensure a fall.

I swallow nervously, faking a smile and ignorance to match,

"You asked to see me after class?" I said, trying to gain grip on my confidence, but the moment my words interrupted the silence, they stuttered and fell limp in the air, already proving the guilt.

He hums beneath his breath, dropping his pen upon the table to rest on his elbows, his large hands twining into each-other so gracefully, I wanted to sink my soul between them for him to crush instead of his words.

"Yes," Mr. Ren simply says, " I wanted to know how you are getting on with this class?"

My heart gains a bit of hope with the lack of scolding, but the rope onto hope is slippery and my heart's grip fades when my conscience tells it that the worse is yet to come.

I shake my head, "As in how I am coping?" I ask, then answering his question when he gives a curt nod, "I-Um, fine."

Sultry lines of passion, valleys of reincarnation, he chuckled and those same dimples around the lips returned, making me feel completely hopeless now, despite the reassuring grin he gave.

"Really?" He sarcastically asks, cocking an eyebrow to my discomfort, "It doesn't seem to be that way."

_Here we go._

I swallow roughly and that's when my fingers start to pinch the skin between each thumb and forefinger.

"O-Oh?" I fake surprise, "How so?"

I'm bracing for impact, holding up my defences for his combat.

"Your poem–" He begins, looking down to the bundle of pages that sat before him, he casually pulls the first page off the litter and holds it below his chin as he reads it out loud.

I go numb.

I stay still and silent, no matter how much the reading of my Mother's poem, is like a thousand knifes are being lodged slowly into my chest with every rhyme, vowel and syllable.

My mind drifts off to the deep voice that reads my departing note, I simply listened to the beat of my heart, which thudded so loud into my ears, I fret for a moment that I will go deaf, but as I stare at his disregarded gaze that burns into the page, I let my eyes sit upon him and farewell my hearing, so long as I keep my sight to submerge onto his handsome features.

Cold fingertips danced delicately along the lines that were printed with ink and blotched in messy handwriting. 

Though, I know I won't be enrolled anymore, truth be told, I did always find him slightly attractive, with his mop of dark-brown hair that sometimes fell in front of those delectable matching eyes. It will be a pity that I won't be able to longingly stare at him anymore, but it didn't take long for a frown to cross my face, eyes settling on what appears to be a blotched inking of kissed red upon his neck.

I wondered what the woman looked like, the one who had given him that mark so beautifully.

Jealously sunk into my haze.

_I wish I could have given him that._

Suddenly, the muffling shrill of my ears is gone and so is the thudding of my pulsating heart. There's a certain, pensive silence that bares the room empty and it takes a suspended second for me to realise that Professor Ren had stopped talking, eyes hooded and demanding as he stared back at me, surely noting the way my own gaze was struck upon the hickey that stained his porcelain flesh.

I grow incredibly timid and stutter, "Sorry?"

And there he sat, his mere presence exuding authority. One long elegant leg crossed over the other as he folded my poem in his hands and sighed in a disappointed manner, not sparing a glance in my direction as he threw it back onto his desk.

When those burning eyes laid back upon me, they tore a hole into my crying soul. He was even more intimidating with his sharp manner of dressing, white dress shirt pressed to perfection, tucked into his tight-black dress pants. 

I gaped stupidly at the paper he had so idly thrown, and the panic only grew mightier in its size that clouded my organs. Then tearing me out of the world and somehow shooting me off to a brutal space where I only reside in panic, he says,

"Did you think that I wouldn't realise that this isn't your work?" He scowls, I flinch at the expression, the tears already welding in my eyes and pleading for forgiveness, "Why did you so blatantly plagiarise?"

_Blatantly._

The look he gave to me after he said those words made me extremely uncomfortable. Sharp, and burning with intensity. I was shocked to the core, frightened to my nerves. I open my mouth to speak, but cannot find the right thing to say.

Professor Ren continues, "This piece is a grand body of work, which is by a very great poet," He exclaims, and for a split second, I consider the fact that he may not have realised that my own Mother had written it, and it was titled after my Father – His boss. How coincidental.

"You may have gotten away with it, if you hadn't of expressed your displeasure with the chosen novel." He added, his voice so booming that it shook my heart which tried to leap through the cage of bones around it, "You would have not written such a perfect poem about the love that Humbert had for Lolita, when you clearly didn't consider it to be anything of that sort, only a week ago."

He was so right. My fingernails dug into my palms and I trembled before him, trying to hide the tears that brewed. I recall the way the bile always rises in my throat when someone would try to explain that Lolita was a love story, but it wasn't. It's a story where there's a clear, imbalance of power – And Humbert used that imbalance, to sway the ignorant and excited Lolita into his hands, not even seeing the imbalance herself, for Humbert always made it seem as if she was in charge, and that is the worst part of it all.

I was called out so coldly, and I couldn't refuse what he even said for my benefit. It was like he knew myself better than I did, and as I stood so petrified before him, I suddenly felt that same imbalance, but instead, I was the cause that put me here.

"I-I am so sorry, Sir!" I suddenly break, leaning my hand upon the edge of his desk to keep me stable against his gales which are more furious than the howling winds outside, "I didn't know what I was thinking, I just didn't have enough time to write one and I panicked. I am sorry."

Mr. Ren only shook his head and smirked, tilting his head to the side and looking at me like my Father would when I was in trouble,

"Actions speak more than words, Miss." He tuts, and in the midst of panic, I wonder why he never refers to my name, which he clearly knows, "You have much to make up for."

I shook my head, but my eyes were hopeful in his command, "Sir, I will do anything," I plead, "Just please don't consider telling the Chancellor, I really need to stay here. Though, I lack at times, I do enjoy writing... It's just hard sometimes, but I promise to pull my head in from now on."

Professor Ren knits his eyebrows together and twines his hands over the armrests of his chair as he leans more comfortably into it. I suddenly felt so out of place, so crimson and stark in a feeling as though this was his home and I was intruding.

I was lost with just his flicker of a gaze that laid upon, slowing time into a stretched out continuum that even made the blood in my veins pause until my heart began to beat thunderously once more, bringing me back to life before his soulful browns. 

"Why are you finding it hard?" He asks me, and I consider his question for a moment, as my mouth ties itself and I wonder why he even cares.

I swallow roughly, snapping my hands away from the edge of his desk and instead, tug on my own fingers in a nervous habit,

"I just can't find any motivation within me anymore," I shake my head and furrow my brows in deep thought, "I have no muse, no passion, no–"

He cuts me short, finishing my own sentence with something I hadn't even considered,

"Desire?"

The word settles itself upon my chest like a feather in the wind, and yet its soft touch is enough to cut into my reality.

I nod,

"– I suppose, yes." I answer, revealing something that was so treacherous to my creativity. The same dismantling that dominated my Mother's own vice and now my own. I often fretted over the fact that maybe it was a curse, or a dodgy bloodline that left both her and I this way, but it clearly wasn't.

It was the destruction of love that was the cruelest killer of them all.

Mr. Ren hums beneath his breath for the hundredth time, and yet I still want to be close enough to feel it fan my face. Then smacking his lips together casually, he scratched the back of his head, curling his long fingers into his raven hair that looked so soft, it made even the clouds jealous.

"You're lying." He said, leaving me dumbfounded, "You do have those things, deep inside you."

Taken aback, I laughed nervously for a second, contorting my features in a way that awaited his pestering smile that made sure he was joking, but upon those rosy lips, was only a potent line and the raising of eyebrows that proved him to be serious in his manner.

Biting my bottom lip and bringing my laughing to a standstill, it cuts out of the air as if he had swiped a knife through my brewing tension.

"I'm not lying about this to just try and get out of plagiarising," I retort, twining on my hands and fingers once more, "I already understand what I have done is wrong, and there's nothing that can make up for doing it in the first place."

So brittlely confused, I feel like all these raging emotions inside of me were stretching me thin and gaunt before him.

Professor Ren doesn't flinch nor react to my protest, as he only stays ever-present in his placid tone and distant eyes that didn't withhold any emotion in which I could try to cling to.

"Maybe so, but I simply didn't say that you were lying to me." He chimes, the corners of his pink lips, cracking up sideways in only the slightest of movements.

Smacking me raw with flawed clarity, I was struck with a paralysed expression that contemplated his meaning but couldn't understand him entirely. Lying to him? Who else could I be lying to?

"What?" I utter, watching the way he shifts in his chair to stare up at me, but in this colossal power-shift, though I was the one standing above, he still seemed to have the higher-ground with that demeaning and coy smirk.

He chuckles shortly again, standing up much to my dismay and circling around the table to meet me. Even when he leans casually against the edge of the desk, merely inches away, a sinking feeling floods all my defences to the burrows, and all my tattered confidence was completely shredded. He was so tall, that even leaving me standing before him, with his dresspant-clad legs, tight and bulging in his position upon the table, he still was left in my eye-line, if not, still taller.

"You're lying to yourself." He mutters softly, laying his gaze so strongly upon me, I might just melt.

Folding his arms across his broad chest, the white button-up shirt that he wore, stretched across his pecks and looked so tight against his muscles, that it surely is cutting off circulation with his arms crossed that way, but he seemed to pay it no mind – Only watching me, ignorantly flicker my eyes upon the blue-corded veins that popped beneath the exposed flesh of his forearms.

I shake my head and try to snap out of it, but save the memory of his strong arms for later. Meeting his gaze once more, I want to cower away, but the mere inches between us are still somehow, calling me to come closer. I don't move either way though, I only glue myself to the ground and try to act stable in this overwhelming perplexity, "How so?"

He licks his lips lightly, and my eyes dart to the pink tongue that etches out to his bottom lip, glistening it in a shine slowly and then returning to form his reasoning, "I see the desire in you, as clear as any-day before this stormy one," Mr. Ren says, widening the splain of his long legs upon the desk, ever-so-slightly, "I saw it in your eyes the day I arrived here... I saw it only moments ago too." He adds, scratching at the blemish upon his neck as a reminder.

My face fell slowly and his words sting something inside me, back awake and the emotion thrashes against me violently. I felt stunned, shocked and unsettled, all at once and together, they were like gasoline to my heart and memory as he so blatantly refers to me gazing at that purple hickey, or even the way his body moves beneath his clothes.

I'm completely paralysed by him, and this time, time won't fly but instead, seems to stop completely. Even the rain that was thrashing against the windows, which hid behind the curtains that had been drawn down by one of the student's before leaving, had seemed to even pause mid-air, for everything in the world fell silent to his command.

"I don't know what you are talking about..." I whisper, though I wished to scream it instead to spare my awful embarrassment. 

Professor Ren cranes his neck lower to meet my gaze, which I no longer wished to give him.

"Another lie." He tuts, shaking his head and furrowing his brows, "Tell me, Miss–"

My lips part at the title again, though he clearly knows my name, why doesn't he use it?

His next question leaves me stunned,

"Why do you often lie?" He says and I shake my head in protest, but suddenly, those eyes turn darker than I had ever seen them before and his smirk fades. Holding up a single, digit finger, he silences me, giving me a look that should haunt me forevermore, but I know it will be the melody of my greatest dreams from now on,

"I think you must need to be punished." He soothes, and my heart does a leap.

_What?_

Had he just said what I think he did?

With all fear about being caught for my plagiarised poem, being thrown out the window, Mr. Ren isn't left dumbfounded by this boundary crossing, but I sure am.

"Do you agree?" He asks me, and all at once, that finger that he used to bring my words limp, came close enough to the flesh of my burning face, and when it is close enough, I fret I can feel the warmth of his body begin to somehow, sooth my crimson flesh. Although, when it reorientates my face to him, the touch is enough to electrify my nerves to an almighty, standstill, leveraging me as glorious as the lightening that strikes in the storm outside.

I am breathless and undeserving of his touch, but I don't ask him to leave me bare as he then cups my cheek and pulls me in closer.

 _What is happening? This can't be real! I have to be dreaming!_ I panic, over and over, inside my mind, but this swaying of devotion and lust that cords my veins into tight knits, are enough to pinch me awake if I was to be asleep.

"I-I."

He shushes me with the song of his minty, intoxicating breath. I fall limp in the cupping of his warm palm, that brings a litter of goosebumps to my flesh.

"Tell me your truth." Mr. Ren murmurs softly, as if I was a pale dove in his grip that he didn't want to startle, "Do you –" He brushes away a strand of hair from out of my eyes, "– Think that you need to be punished for your behaviours?"

From only a week of lessons, I had previously collected that Professor Ren was always all about business, deadlines, meetings and schedules. His face was never readable, like he left his emotions locked in the drawer beneath his desk. But right in this suspended second, where I stand so breathless in his big hand, which should have never laid upon me in this setting and power imbalance, our eyes met for the hundredth time, but this time, they seemed to interlock and connect in a way that was so unanticipated.

Now, no longer resembling a blank page from my notebook, I could see the own desire swirl in the dilated pupils of his, just as he began to brush his thumb across my cheek, awaiting my answer. 

I knew, _oh-so-well,_ that this was wrong. What I am challenging is the implication that may result of my answer, when the question had more underlaying intentions boarded beneath the soft tone that he gave. Responsible teachers don't catch feelings for their students, and teachers are off limits, and yet, here Mr. Ren is – _the attractive and brooding, Mr. Ren –_ Cupping my face so delicately in his sinful grip.

With crossed territory, these boundaries become more blurred and I fight the battle of becoming muddled into it all and ending up crossing every line. But with one tender look at the tongue of his, which darts out to wet his bottom lip, I utter my answer with no flick of regret laying upon my frazzled heart.

"Y-Yes."

Mr. Ren takes no time to stand and my face lifts to meet him whilst his touch never fades, only it is doubled when his other hand twines to the back of my neck, tugging slightly on the nape of my hair.

Eye to eye, gravity seems to be pulling me in closer, and without the pardon of his tone, I find I will listen to every one of his commands, so long as he says them with his hands from now on.

Shuffling his feet closer, I can feel the heat flood off his panting chest and right here, this close, I can also feel his cool breath fan my face and I bask in the subtle wind from his lungs, trying to demolish the crimson in my cheeks.

He adjusts himself in-front of me, standing straighter and with this new angle, I have to crane my neck to properly look at his face, though I become petrified below it in this sudden, lustful gaze he gave.

There's a tender second, where only the winds outside howl and sing a song to stir the emotions that cave and build inside my chest. The air of the night was kissed by rainfall. Much like the many days before it, the rain still plummeted down onto the earth's thick soil, harshly and vigorously. The crisp air it provided, snuck through the blinds, etching its way through the room and against my burning flesh.

Beneath the flickering light above, he and I, both moved closer now, and our shadows stretched across the white-board, where his messy writing is spread across. With twin silhouettes cut from the same canvas, I swallowed all my nerves and reached my hands up, curling them around the muscles of his arms.

Mr. Ren sighed below his breath and laid his fingers on my neck, over the pulse beneath it that beat erratically to his touch, and then slowly, he let that glorious grip tighten like a mighty vice with a warning around the expanse of my neck and to my surprise, I shuddered and let my eyes flutter close to hide the elation.

He made a chesty sound at my surprise, and in the grip of his hand, I could feel our spirits, too, were entwined, both physically and emotionally.

Finally, he spoke with that deep tone of his, but this time, it was barely above a fragile whisper,

"Good choice."

My eyes briskly snap open, just in time to see his face take a dominating twist.

A dark blush covers my cheeks and I prepare myself to be told off as he breathes inwards heavily and I brace myself for whatever might come. I could see wind-stirred waves in his eyes of a deep, golden ocean. And he softens them to me enough, that I can see the depths for a few seconds of timid blur, until I pull myself out before drowning within the space around the black.

And then, suddenly, his lips press tightly to mine and my eyes widen before they flutter back close, hands moving to fist the white shirt that he wore, tightly and uncaring for the fabric is soft under my grip, and sure to crinkle within it.

All at once, he air is vibrating somehow, whispering in a way that his ears cannot hear, but I swear I can hear the soothing melody they sing. In sculpture of his divine hands, he pulled me in closer and I followed the warmth so destructively, that I just fell pathetically into the stone chest.

Mr. Ren's teeth nibbled down onto my bottom lip and I oblige to his wishes, wetly opening my mouth slightly to allow his tongue to slip in with ease and open invitation. I moan ever so softly as I feel it run over my own. Soft like silk, and tasting faintly of both mint and tobacco or maybe coffee, which are both tastes that I have never-much appreciated, but in the warm press of Professor's Ren's mouth, it was like the melting of euphoria upon my tongue.

A hand twines into his hair and I tug harshly against it when he bites my bottom lip once more, just for his own pleasure of hearing me whimper into his mouth. He moans when the raven hair is pulled and my knees fall weak before him, but his big, strong hands are keeping me stable.

Then pulling away, he only tucked his head into the crook of my neck, tearing away his hands from my cheeks to pull the fabric of Percy's coat and my shirt away, to expose the collarbones below.

When he litters purple blotches upon my bones – _The same as the one on his neck that sat lonesome –_ I let my head fall back and expose more of my neck to the pleasure of his tongue, which lapped and danced circles upon my skin that sprung with sudden desire, which I thought was all gone from my system.

Staring to the cubed, lined ceiling of the classroom with hooded eyes, I couldn't believe what was happening and didn't consider the consequences as I only urged him to continue with brittle moans and the placing of my hands on his broad shoulders.

When my nails scratch at the fabric of his back, I hear him moan into my neck and feel the vibration in my bones. Once again, he's pulling away and as he stares back to my features, flicking his gaze upon every crook and line, I am sure for a moment that I've done something wrong.

Mr. Ren's cheeks are tinting red behind the consolations of freckles upon his pale face and he's panting above me, leaving me to advert my gaze only to the hardened bulge that tried to escape the confining of his dress pants.

I sucked a sharp breath inwards, preparing to meet his passionate stare once more, but he assists in pulling me by the chin to meet him as he says with an incredibly, raspy tone, "Are you still willing to go through with your punishment?"

He's still filled with dominating authority, but my heart patters at the tying of consent to his words, even though we are lapped into a situation, where higher authorities might protest that there is no consent in such a power imbalance – The same way I often criticised Humbert's love for Lolita, who was still willing, but wasn't able to legally make that choice yet.

I shudder at the thought of Mr. Ren and I, suddenly morphing into both Humbert and his Lolita, and though my conscience screamed for me to stop this before it continued, the return of my desire was ever-strong and it screamed over the protesting whispers.

I nod my head, almost too quickly, "Yes, Sir."

Next thing I know, Mr. Ren growls below his breath and moves our positions so that I am laying upon the sprawling of his papers and notes, my boots kicking onto the edge of his desk and my hands pulling him by his shirt, back to my mouth.

Eventually, after I had withheld all the oxygen in my lungs and needed more, I pulled away tentatively, and Mr. Ren took no time to lift me up by the small of my back, to leverage in pulling off both, Percy's coat and my shirt. When my exposed skin prickles in the air, his chest only warms it once again, even through the thin layer of his shirt that he kept on.

Cupping and sliding his big hands over my clad breasts, he kneads the skin beneath the thin layer of a lace bralette, that left none of the bust beneath it, to be completed purely by his imagination as he sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth.

I pulled away and laid back upon the pages of his student's, currently forgetting that I was one of them and I was previously being scolded about the plagiarism of my own. He drops his attention and lets his brown eyes fall to my breasts that he cups so forcefully in his hands, I buck up to meet his waist that stands between the opening.

Then falling into a heap of hair onto my chest, my Professor licked, nipped and sucked on my attentive skin, blemishing them with his beautiful mouth. Hearing me gasp when he brutally bit down hard, he quickly kissed away the hurt, pinching my other bust to confuse my nerves and distract the overwhelming crash of senses.

"Sir!" I cried and I felt him shudder into my chest at the title.

Mr. Ren's hands stay strong upon the sides of my thighs and whilst keeping his forehead resting upon my ribs, he glances down to the buttoning of my jeans, watching with hooded and drunk with lust, eyes, as it seems his hands are not hardwired to him directly, for they simply move on their own to the buttoning and zip them down, leaving both my thighs and chest cold, as he lifts his head and nearly rips the jeans down to my shins, where they bundle over my boots.

He mumbles below his breath, but I hear the last snippet in the midst of my hazy desire that burned to feel every inch of his body.

He bends down and into the circle of my confined legs that are bound by my boots and pants, leaving him in the middle of it all to admire me sprawled before him and ready.

"Just how I pictured," He muttered, and I rode on the feeling so the words didn't overwhelm me as his hands then began to encircle my waist, roaming up my back and scratching little, possessive circles into the satin skin on each side of my thighs.

"What do you want, Miss?" He moaned, his lips turning red and his voice sounding needy.

I leaned back on my elbows and looked down at Mr. Ren's face hovering above my lap. I knew my cheeks were are pink as the shine of his mouth, and I fell silent to the beat of my lustful heart that beat with a design of warmth and intertwined pleasure.

When I didn't answer, Mr. Ren reached out and gently drew his index finger along the line where the lacy hem of my underwear met the soft skin of my thigh, which began to splotch pink as-well. I sighed at his touch, ghosting gently over my skin. He allowed his finger to follow the line of the panties, tracing my inner thigh and continuing until he reached my centre, where my core tightened in apprehension and need.

I gasped as he began to lightly stroke the sensitive bundle through the thin fabric. With practiced fingers, he pushed my panties aside and ran his finger through the wet folds, circling the peaking and trembling nerves with such precise along with his heavy stare, as he used his other hand to then tease my entrance.

I groaned out loud and it was brittle and broken as I threw my head back and broke our passionate stare.

My hands clenched onto his shoulders when he finally thrust two fingers into me, and I tugged on the fabric of his shirt, uncaring if it ripped as I was coming undone to only the beginning of his touch. When tightness of his trousers became increasingly uncomfortable as my lewd cries of pleasure went straight to the length beneath it, my inner walls started to clench around his fingers. I was so close, already seeing stars and hues that are the most beautiful hallucination that comes with this type of elation. But with some form of otherworldly strength, he pulled out and way.

Then, he smacked my thigh and I braced up and shrieked below him, "Naughty girl!" He scolded, giving me a harsh glare that demanded more, "Tell me what you want, answer me!"

My mouth fell open and heavy pants escaped into the sexual tension, my eyes rolled into the back of my head when his hands gripped onto my thighs once more, "I want all of you, S-Sir." I barely managed to rasp, but that was all he needed.

It took careful manoeuvring with me straddling his hips as I lay open on his desk, but Mr. Ren was able to pull both his trousers and pants down his thighs, leaving them bunched at his knees, in one quick motion that only elated the desire within me to an overbearing force.

I bit my bottom lip and failed to hide a smile as Professor Ren's length sprung free, the tip already glistening and as red as his soft lips which he parted in pleasure. The raven-haired man, threw his head back as he finally took hold of it in his big hands, swiping his fingers delicately and with cautionary moves to prolong the sexual drive.

Sliding my underwear to the side with an evoked a sense of perceived control, both he and I resisted the urge to thrust whilst he finally positioned and prodded at my entrance. Mr. Ren held my hips tightly with one hand and when he finally sunk into me, his moans were consumed by my heated kiss that I pulled him by the collar into.

His pace was steady as he made a home out of me, each thrust seating him deep inside until there was no more outside.

Soon, the classroom that was once filled with lessons and profession, mixed into the rapture of moans and whimpers.

My clad breasts bounced with each of his movements, beckoning and begging to be paid attention to and my fingers wound their way into his hair as he leaned forward, nipping and sucking at my flushed chest.

He lavished each of the marks he had already caused, in equal measure, swirling the dusky pink blemishes with his tongue, and giving them the attention they deserved until they became brutally purple in his mouth.

Again, I felt my walls begin to constrict, but this time there was no stopping. His movements became frantic and he snaked a hand between our intertwined bodies, to circle my delicates with his thumb, once more.

"The moment I saw you –" He groaned into my ear, leveraging himself up by smacking a hand down by my head and tearing poems in his movement, "This is all I have needed – To see you writhing beneath me."

I moaned at his words and felt the gentle caress of his fingers against me, which made me do exactly what he said, twitch and writhe beneath his toned body.

The obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, filled the empty classroom as his pace increased. He swallowed each breathy gasp of mine, with frantic kisses as our movements became erratic.

"Sir!" I threw my head back and gasped again, as my core pulsed and clenched around his overwhelming length. He returned my cries for his own, which were raspier and warmer than cheap wine that had fallen into velvet.

Professor Ren's cheeks began to flush a deeper red with the struggle of refraining for so long, breath hitching whilst I screamed for him once more as his eyes leaped over my sweaty body, his member thrusting up and out, attempting pacify his desire.

Just when the heat begins to twist in my innards, I let go with a shriek as I claw onto his muscles beneath the material, and arch my neck back again, allowing him to fall into the crook and abuse the marks his teeth and lips had already caused.

When his thrusts begin to become unsteady and his hands trembled at my delicates, he swapped them to place themselves on the dips of my hips. I know he is almost where I have already reached and then all at once, he cries out into my ear and bucks forcefully, one last time.

The light within the brown was a spark of enchanted passion and I basked beneath the warmth that it brought to me. A small but teasing smile crept upon his face and goosebumps lined my torched skin like that same, litter of storm that raged in the sky, far away from us in this very moment. 

When moments pass of our unsteady breathing, both of us are so obviously confused as to how we got to this point, and yet, we both don't have a single slither of regret to eat in our passionate feast.

Mr. Ren eventually pulls out of me, and I begin to pat my hands around the mess of his desk, in search for my shirt.

After pulling on my shirt and then my pants back up to my trembling hips, I sighed a breath of laughter and shook my head to my Professor.

"That had to be the most pleasurable punishment I have ever received." I utter to him, my chest heaving and panting.

Professor Ren, began to tuck himself into his boxers and at my words he cocks an eyebrow and shakes his head.

"You're still not off the hook yet," He simply said, that same bland etching of an expression returning to his handsome, yet crimson face when he turns it back to me.

Knitting my brows together, I leveraged myself off the desk, and he helped me gain my stance as I stumbled for a short moment,

"What?" I ask, just when his hands leave my forearms.

He shrugs, "Your new assignment in order for me to let go of your little plagiarised stunt, is to write another poem, this time about... _Desire."_ He smirks, knowing exactly what he was doing to me – The one who had just opened their legs to the Professor and wrapped them around his back, only seconds before – And now, he's going back to professional?! I mean, he's in his boxers!

Desire. My heart fell into my tender guts and my lips parted, but he only cut me off as he began to pull his pants back up.

"No arguments," Mr. Ren urges, giving me a heavy stare, where the passion began to subdue in the colouring of his deep eyes,

"After all, I didn't do all of that, just for you to lose that muse, once again."


	7. SIX

My dreams had become romantic and sensual compositions of old, bringing a sense that I had once long-forgotten, and waking up was no different. Visions of spring in pastel pinks and purples follow the winter's touch of yesterday's storm that raged on the euphoria that my body now fuelled on.

My heart setting a new beat of missing desire, my cheeks can still feel his large hands upon them, burning them to a fire where I am the ash of his touch.

As I stare at my bare ceiling, I feel anything but – With my littering of bruises and love-bites ricocheted across my collarbones, where my Literature Professor had laid his marble lips upon, cursing my name into the heart beneath him as I still recall the way my legs had twined him passionately against me.

There's a timid voice who tries to scratch away whatever is left of my desire from last night's unexpected events, her voice is little and fearful, with her apprehensive words that scold me in what I had done.

I suppose a part of me believed where she was coming from, the affair that served was not something that should've ever happened. First, it was in a public place – A public place that my very own Father was the head of. Secondly, Mr. Ren was my teacher, he was at least a decade older than me, if not more, and I didn't even know his first name. The consequences of that relation that happened, could ruin both of our careers and lives, if anyone was ever to find out what had only happened once – But that didn't stop me from picturing it happening more, like some simple glimpse of fabricated epiphany.

It was tough, for everything that scolding tone of my conscience said at the back of my mind, were true, and yet, here I still lay, remembering every little sensation he gave to me – Clinging onto my favourite thing Mr. Ren had given, desire.

I hold onto it tight in my fists, like a flickering butterfly that I didn't want to let go off, but eventually in the confining of my clenched palms, it will suffocate and die. I have to let go of it eventually, but I am still holding onto this ghostly sensation, in which Professor Ren haunts me with.

Though if I hold this desire too tight, it will lose its thrill, I still keep it chained to me for now, for it still tied me to his beauty and I needed the memory to produce a poem about it, in order for Mr. Ren to forget about the consequences of my forgery.

I shudder in the confining of my blankets, my body curled in tightly whilst my face still blinks tired at the pale ceiling. My eyes shift in the blank white, morphing and twining into the vision of the moment his face lost that boyish flush of clandestine, where then, Professor Ren turned back into that man, who only gave me slight glances and more lessons and tasks – Shifting back into the professional figure that his title was, leaving no trace of his own euphoria behind.

I wondered for a second, _is Mr. Ren awake right now, at 7am, staring at his ceiling too? Only, is he glaring at it with regretful colours?_

My phone vibrating on my bedside table, breaks me out of my deep stare and also the pits of my thoughts. Sighing and reaching over, I rip the phone out of its charger carelessly, and sigh at the caller ID.

His name is enough to send my heart pattering to a beat that is uncommon in its new song, but the smile that beams on the screen, his face so exuberant and delighted in the flash, sends different kinds of memories to flood the winds in my chest.

As his portrait digs up the grave which I had buried for our relationship, he brought a disturbance of dust to my new-found desire, in small plumes of particles that erupt tortuously as if it was uncasing the heartbreak all over again. 

I can still see he and I, twisted in bedsheets, where I laid my head upon his chest, sinking into the hope of the future he could've carried us both into with those hands he would tangle into my hair – Until he decided to tangle them into another's.

My heart pulsates in a warmth that reminds me of the infatuation and nostalgia which once thrived the scent of woodsmoke and that cheap beer he liked.

In the few weeks after Leo and I's breakup, I would cancel every plan I had and would refuse to do anything else, just in the slightest chance that he would call and there was nobody there to stop me from answering but now, many months later, he began to call and in my new found strength I had drawn in his missing indentation, I know my only option is to decline – No matter how much I want to hear his voice again.

_But, I want to hear that voice again._

I sunk further down into my pillows, holding the phone in both of my hands above my head as it kept ringing like bells of my destruction. Still ringing, and ringing. My heart, beating and beating.

I clicked answer.

"Hello," I uttered, the thudding in my chest louder than my own words.

The ringing stopped... Only to then slide onto the end tone, I had missed the chance.

I sigh, the dial-tone falling as flat at as my eyes. Maybe, that was fate who had decided that I shouldn't ever speak to him again. After-all, I simply know I cannot survive what I had been through, twice.

My arms fall limp by my sides and I accept my chosen fate. But when it rings again, I take no time in answering.

"Hello?" I repeat, this time, my voice sounding nervous and timid.

"Oh!" A woman's voice gasps, and my heart drops despite the high-pitched sound, "You picked up quickly."

I hum into the phone, rolling onto my side and holding the device to my ear with a cold hand, "Hi, Mother." I greet the woman, wondering why she was calling – Ignoring the fact that I didn't wonder why Leo was calling before, instead.

"Hello, Dear." She cooed, and I could picture her now, dressed in her bright clothes, despite the darkness of her inner sorrows, most-likely tidying around the empty and already-clean home, where pictures of a happy family line the walls, though we are separate in our broken frames.

"Why are you calling?" I ask her, ensuring my voice was in just a wondering tone to not hurt her feelings.

My Mother laughs lightly into the speaker, and I know just by that shrill, that she's playfully rolling her eyes as well, "I was just making sure you have remembered your promise."

I sit up in my bed quickly, clinging onto my bruised collarbones as my hair falls crazily down my back, I furrow my brows, "Promise?" I utter, "What promise?"

She tuts, "You promised that you were coming over for a family lunch today."

My guts clench and bruise.

How could I forget?

How could I forget about the dreadful day that was slowly drawing closer on the calendar that hung above my desk, the day where the three of us would have to pretend to be a happy family, in the own confining of our home. It was understandable to pretend outside in the real world, where people looked in, but behind the thick bricks of my childhood home, it was overbearing and smothering.

"O-Oh..." I breathe into the speaker, refraining from smacking myself in the forehead in anger to my distractions over the week. I wanted to claw at the bruises upon my collarbones.

"Right." I shook my head in understanding, though she couldn't see me, "Sorry, it's just been a really... Busy week–" I snide at the love-bites, "I'll be over by noon, _love you."_

The weather was better. Well, at least on this side of New York, where the trees grow high instead of the skyscrapers.

From the kitchen window, the sun peaks through the emerald and sits bare upon the wet grass from yesterday's storm. I sit in the conjoining dining room, the table filled with three sets of empty china, as I am the only one sitting at the end, sliding the warm glass of water between each of my hands.

The home was as quiet as the souls who lived inside of it. I didn't glance into my room as I walked through the hallway to the kitchen, knowing well that the baby-blue walls of my childhood had been painted a crisp white and my belongings had been replaced with my Mother's, leaving mine to be tucked somewhere in the deepest corners of the attic. I didn't mind much though, no amount of dust matters to my teenage belongings, if my Mother collected her own upon her heart if she had to sleep next to the man she loved so dearly, but like Leo with I – He had betrayed their love for a slim fling with another.

The dining room table is the same piece of glossed wood, that has always sat in the same spot for many years. Dints in the legs, scratches from cutlery upon the surface. It was exactly noon when I arrived, and it seems that my Mother had rushed out to get forgotten groceries needed for our lunch – That or when my Father arrived, she couldn't bare the silence during the sunshine of a new day.

Usually, my Father came home from campus, in the late darkness of the night, and by then, my Mother was already pretending to fall asleep to the sounds of his footsteps in the hall from the confining of my old bedroom.

I greeted my Father on the way in, but he was in the midst of a supposed, important phone call in his home-office. Only giving me a distracted smile and a raising of a finger. Now, I only roll my eyes to the ticking of the ghostly clock, the same face and brand that hung above every classroom of my Father's college.

The same type that slowed to Mr. Ren's and I's suspended moans and cries of pleasure. My cheeks burn crimson, I gulp down the rest of my lukewarm water, but it doesn't drench away the pleasure of the memory, only adds to my hunger for more.

But there won't be any more. There can't be. And even if my subconscious wasn't there to make me see the dangers of this, I am certain that Mr. Ren had cut all ties to this affair, the moment his climax faded and he regained clarity. Putting on that deadpanned expression and the monotoned voice of professional integrity.

I rub my eyes, feeling the tired trenches of my night, pull on my heartstrings whilst tying them in a looped knot around the frazzled nerves of Leo's call from this morning, which I almost answered. A deep part of me, desperately wants to rekindle things as harshly as he wishes too, but like Mr. Ren, I cling onto my defensive clarity and stop myself before I wreck anything. 

The house is incredibly silent, other than the distant voice of my Father and the overbearing ticking above.

Soon later, my Mother stumbled through the front-door and pattered into the kitchen with quick footing.

"Ah, hello!" She said, dropping the paper bags on the kitchen table and brushing me away, when I make my way over, in attempts to help her pack away her groceries, "Don't worry about it –" She lightly tapped the back of my hand out of the bag, "I've got it, you just sit back down."

I flinch away from the paper bags, but don't make an effort to return back to the table as I instead, lean against the counter and watch her, occasionally adjusting the collar of my shirt, in frets that she can see the purple blotches beneath the thick sweater that I wore under Percy's jacket – Which somehow, tied me back to Mr. Ren unceasingly, instead of the friend that it actually smelt of.

My Mother unloaded all the groceries as we began to casually chat about life and school, us both, leaving many bits out. She stuffed them into the pantry, wherever she could fit them, in the already-filled cupboard. I now realise that she did leave because of my Father, but I would never call it out.

I watched her as she wrapped small potatoes in tin-foil and lined them in a tray with various vegetables to roast in the oven. Even though I was witnessing everything she prepared, I still asked,

"What are you cooking for lunch?"

My Mother was an unimaginative cook, but she hadn't always been that way – I take it anyone could guess when she lost that ability, if they tried to read the horrible poems that she shunned away in the fire that she would burn late at night in the living room.

"Your favourite." She smiled and I gave her a weary one back.

Whatever it was, I know it wasn't going to be my favourite. All that she prepared was as bland as the love, but I would always praise it like the reviews on the front pages of her old, critically-acclaimed novels.

When everything was finally put away and she closed the oven door, which creaked in the movement only to then quiet to the minimal, which mourned the home. My Mother leaned against the sink across from me and tilted her head at the perched bill that was hung by a magnet upon the fridge.

We stood in silence for a few moments. It wasn't uncommon nor uncomfortable though. Neither of us were bothered by the quiet. In some ways, we were best suited for this lacking that we became pirates to overtime, with the ferocious silence of our muse.

 _Muse_ – I referred to it often, though it was always something that I had stolen off of her, as she always called her gift her muse, I guess because her creativity grew upon the soil of the now broken, love that she held to my Father.

My Mother shook her head and cleared her throat at the same time, a habit of her's that I had also stolen...

 _Along with her poem._ A little voice of mine added. I ignored her.

She glances to me now, giving me a kind and closed smile as her eyes trickle down my face and to my shoulders, I panic for a moment, sucking a sharp breath inwards and clinging onto the collar of my shirt in a nervous fret that the shirt had disappeared and displayed the hickeys that had come from my teacher, but she saves me from embarrassment when she asks,

"Who's jacket is that?"

I breathe a deep sigh of relief, leaning further into the bench, ignoring the slight pinching upon my hipbones, where my Professor's thumbs had dug into, untangling all of my deepest knots in such a simple touch.

I shrug casually, "Percy's." I say, now playing with the cotton collar of his overly large jacket, "I lost my only jacket a couple of days ago, he lended me his."

My Mother purses her lips, giving me a knowing look and grins to herself as she turns to the sink, pulling a clear glass out of the dish-rack and filling it up with the water from the tap. She turns back around and cups the glass in her hands, then speaking into the cup as she brings it to her thin lips,

"I wish you and that boy would just put your childish natures aside and get married already." She says sarcastically, cocking a brow. I shudder at her words, the same words that ran along the lines of something she has told me since Percy and I had become friends.

I make a gurgled sound and shake my head, only to laugh at the expression upon her features.

"What?" I chuckle.

"Percy's a good boy," My Mother tuts, rolling her eyes to me and then to the ceiling, "And a much better man than that... Leo guy."

Gripped in sudden agony of slowing despair as I considered all that she meant and the addition of him calling this morning, my mind rejects her words and only clings onto Leo's name, quickly skipping onto the blues of his eyes that yes, I do miss.

She sees this in the dropping of my shoulders and the clench of my jaw, the way she would describe a sweet melody of longing for a lost lover in both her poem's and her reflection.

She coos beneath her breath, placing her glass on the bench that I lean upon, but as she makes her way over to me with widened arms, the glass shatters to the floor and crumbles into a thousand tiny pieces, the same tincture of cracked whole, that my heart had glued itself back into overtime, but the cracks were still potent.

We both glance to the shattering upon the tiles, but she tears her gaze back onto me to ensure that I am okay, I wave her away, faking a small smile.

"I'm okay," I assure her, "It's just–"

"Still hard?" She finishes for me, I nod.

"Yeah –" I sigh, glaring to the glass on the ground that we both leave untouched, the water of its contents, starting to seep into the cracks of the tiles too. I furrow my brows, noticing myself still twining the collar of Percy's jacket in my hand. His jacket was a deep brown, the same type of colour that swam in Mr. Ren's eyes.

"But," I begin before I could even stop myself, all because of the mere, swirling of intoxication that did laps in my stomach at the colour, "I think I'm getting better – I think something in me has returned." I smile weakly.

My Mother gasps and her jaw drops in a delighted surprise, knowing exactly what I was implying,

"Ah!" She beamed, flooding with an overwhelming happiness, although I would be soon to disappoint her, "Your muse?" She mentioned that name again, and I only chuckled and nodded my head slowly.

"That's great!" She snapped, waving her eccentric hands in the air and shouting in the quiet kitchen. I wondered for a short moment, if this was the loudest she had been in this home for months, as I heard a snippet of my Father's murmurs from down the hall, in the midst of her's, "I can't wait to see whatever you come up with."

Guilt swarms my blood. My Mother loved art and Literature, it was her passion although she no longer had any; And the day, many years ago, when I told her that I wanted to grow up and be an author, just like her, she cried and practically threw me up and down in the air – And later that day, she begged for me to write her a short story for her to keep in her bones and treasure in her heart.

"Mother, don't get too keen." I frown, shaking my head as my voice barely comes above a whisper, "It'll probably die soon, like it has every other time I grasp onto hope."

Her and I, both knew deeply about each-other's defying problem. And in moment's like this, I am glad she is the only one who understands.

She tip-toes over the glass and grabs onto my hands with her warm, comforting ones that began to wrinkle, the bearings of her life and artistry, living within the creases.

"Well, grasp harder this time." She whispers too, as if I was the frightened and shy child she had taken to her first day of school again, "Don't waste time – What are you defending? There's no reason that you can't demand that feeling to stay."

Her words strike something awake inside of me, and my eyes narrow in thought. Grasp onto it harder? That's a good way to think about it, if I wasn't gripping so tightly onto the hope of a dead reality between my Professor and I, which in the eyes of education, is illegal.

I try to take the attention off of me, whilst my cheeks trickle with a red tinge that burns me all over,

"If that was true, I am sure you would have another novel out by now." I chime, becoming the master of spin.

My tone is sarcastic and my eyes gleam with playfulness. Mother's eyes snap to mine, her jaw dropping in fake offence. If it weren't for the glass all around the room, I would presume her to nudge me, like she would when I was younger and cheekier, play fighting in the backyard, when she would take a lunch-break between writing. 

She slaps the back of my hand lightly, once again – And bile rises into the pits of my throat, when I think back to Mr. Ren slapping my thigh last night. _Come on, get a grip!_

"Oh stop – I would if it had ever returned to me, but it hasn't yet." My Mother smirks, and I laugh despite the pain in my chest that proves her to be true. I wonder just how full her bookshelf would be in the living room... Would it filled to the brim with her own poetry, if it weren't for my Father cheating on her with his assistant?

She furrows her fading brows at the look upon my face once more,

"Darling," She cups a hand to my cheek, "Feelings and desires don't control you, once it has chosen you – You control it, and only you can make sure it is nurtured."

Her hand drops shortly after and she turns back to the shattered glass on the floor, staring at it as if it was a metaphor, only... I was the one left examining her words as if it was an essay given out by Professor Ren.

Swallowing sharply and blinking over what she had said, a heavy but brittle tension forms in the air between myself and her unknowing back, almost staining my hands with a tingle of realisation with the harsh colouring of white knuckles that clenched with need to do something.

My lungs caved in as if the desire had dropped a boulder onto my chest. My eyesight struggled to cope with the daylight and I fumbled with my own hands.

"Just think about it," My Mother chimed in my silence as I finally had the urge to write, recalling the poem I have to write before the dreaded Monday, where I will have to face Professor Ren once again.

I watch with a hazy gaze as the twists and pulls of words that relate to her own, grow like veins in my mind and beg to be sprawled upon paper with the blessing of ink and my own creation.

 _Grip onto it._ Her voice rings in my mind as I watch her pull out the packet of napkins from a drawer to wipe up the water, from the already dust-panned glass. _Only you can make sure it is nurtured._

My lips part in realisation as my muse greets a comeback in the dreamscapes of his brown eyes and the honour of blue that tries to sneak into the moment, but I push Leo away to only bask in the passion of Professor Ren.

I hadn't felt desire since last night, with Mr. Ren and right now, that is all that brought my passion back to life – And suddenly it dawned, I must write about him.

I can't fight the desire. I can't push it away like I have been since last night. I have to just let it flow and take its course.

"I'll go tell your Father that lunch is ready." My Mother sighs, placing the dustpan away, but leaving the clad of napkins on the bench. When she walks out of the kitchen, I fling for a paper napkin and run to my bag, pulling out a pen.

The words flow from my mind, forging with my greatest infatuations and intentions as if truely, they didn't come from the passion, but instead, the desire only fuelled what I had all along, inside of me.

 _Welcome home._ I kiss the return of my muse, even if it did base on someone so unattainable.

My hand begins ache and sweat around my blue pen as I try to continue my twining road of a poem, where ink scribbles out multiple mistakes and phrases are dropped in the middle of a sentence to replace it with one that I deem to be better.

When I raise the completed poem that was sprawled messily on the napkin to my eye-line, standing straight and proud, I pity my Mother, for this feeling of devoted completion, is the most satisfied I have felt in a while, if I remove the taste of Mr. Ren's lips that I now, secretly cherish.

When I hear the distant footsteps of both my Father and Mother, making their way down the hall to the kitchen, not speaking as they do so, I shove the napkin into my bag, uncaring if I crumple or tear the thin fabric in the process, for it will be impossible for me to forget what I had just written...

𝙳𝙴𝚂𝙸𝚁𝙴

𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝙸 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝙸 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎. 

𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚢.

𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚠𝚗, 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚍. 

𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍, 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢. 𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜, 𝙸 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍.

𝙽𝚘𝚠, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚢. 

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗. 

𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝?

𝙼𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎.

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝,

𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛.


	8. SEVEN

I have been begging for sunshine, the moment the rain had brewed and clashed against my skin every morning on my way to class.

When there's storms like these, nobody cares to do anything other than rug up in bed until the moment where they have to cower away from the duvets and go to work or school. And today, I had to force myself out of bed with an unwilling desire.

I had been cooped up with these old clocks that don't tick for too long, the whiteboards that are stained with lessons which I do not care for, and tired, melancholy faces that bare the sense of utter desolation, which craves the sun once more, as-well.

I lean upon the wall next to my Literature classroom and stare out the window across from me as I wait for someone else to walk in, so I am not the first just in case Mr. Ren is already in there. The rain patters much softer upon the pane, almost painting dreamscapes of hopeful sun to come from peeking out the clouds above.

I breathe an irritated sigh of boredom and check the clock on my phone, I had already been waiting for fifteen minutes, but I couldn't punch my fists through the walls or scream in exasperation just yet, for I was the ignorant one who had walked to class way too early.

There are only so many games I can invent on these hardwood floors, narrowing my eyes upon the cracks and trying to find little coincidental pictures in the wooden rows, and no matter how much I tried to open the notebook that I clung tightly to my chest, and to force myself to write something down with all this extra, wasted time to spare, I refrained from doing so, because I knew that the poem I had converted from the napkin to the pages, would be the last bit of creation that I could spare for a while, until something else comes along and inspires me the way my very own, Professor did.

My stomach swirls unceasingly with sudden nerves. Overnight, I laid awake with dread for this class. No matter how much I glared to my alarm clock, trying to force the changing numbers to slow, finally the day I've been dreading is here and I can't halt the dawning of class, ebbing it's gradual way into this pale daylight of my heart, that beats as warm as that same sun, almost burning my nervous flesh to a crisp, whilst even my palms sweat around the binding of my book.

_Is it going to be slightly awkward? Or will Mr. Ren ignore me completely?_

I'm begging the rain God's beneath my breath, that Professor Ren, completely ignores me so I don't have to grip onto this lustful longing anymore, rather just mourn over what had happened and never would again – But there's still a selfish part of me that wonders if he often thinks of that night, _as I did_ , and if he wished to bend me over his desk once more, just to get another taste of that elation which we both brought.

Everything hinges on how Mr. Ren acts, and hopefully he doesn't look at me the way I do when he eventually turns around the far corner of the hallway, holding his essentials in his big hands, which my gaze fell to first and then to his face, which shifted into the memory of him moaning above me and flushing a gorgeous red. 

I burn that same crimson and try to force my eyes to my shoes, to spare him from seeing my embarrassment; But when I notice the short, blonde girl who tries to keep up with his long strides, with a beaming smile on her face and bright, high-pitched words, I suddenly run on hidden jealousy.

Rachel Mathews' tries to capture Mr. Ren's attention with words that my raging ears muffle out against my pulsating heart. His features are nonchalant and he only hums beneath his breath at her words, but that could mean anything! Professor Ren, hid basically all of his emotions it seemed, in the desk drawer in his classroom, the only time I had seen much more than a sarcastic chuckle or the rolling of his brown eyes, was when he moaned out loud into the empty classroom and contorted those hunger inducing features, into a face of a man who had just seen stars explode around the rapture of his climax.

But then it dawned on me as the two of them drew in closer, perhaps Mr. Ren was just like all men, just like my Father and just like my ex-boyfriend, Leo – Perhaps he had an overbearing sex-drive and it didn't matter who he used to fuel it, and by the looks of Rachel's glossy gaze and plumped lips, she was prepared to assist him if the chance ever came, like it had for me.

I bite the inside of my cheek harshly as the realisation or perhaps, irrational happenings, hit my brain and then coarse through my blood coldly. I was mortified, completely frozen to the spot as Professor Ren didn't spare me a single look as they both went into the classroom.

I felt used, but more so, angry at myself that I hadn't considered this to be a reality sooner. But what did I expect? What could a harsh and brooding, Professor, want from his student, who was at least a decade younger, after laying her over his desk and feeling her legs wrap around his body? I have nothing else to give to Mr. Ren, and he had already gotten his sensual moment with me, so why would he need another? Especially if there's a beautiful, blonde girl who was willing to do the same...

I rolled my eyes at myself and my stupid poem, and don't make an effort to interrupt them until more people begin to flood in – After all, he may as well be groping her thigh this very moment, with those big, inviting hands of his.

I could almost hear my conscience snickering at my lost, after it had tried to warn me for the past couple of days and I stood soaking in the cruel laughter of my own taunts, my head beginning to spin. I'm already admitting to my defeat, and preparing to adjust the rest of my life around the nauseating embarrassment that I had allowed myself to get into that situation, so pathetically. I'd never live this down as long as I'd live. It will keep me awake for the next years and occasionally wake me up in a cold sweat, many decades on, I imagine, in the nursing home that I end up in.

There's an irrational part of me that is preparing to leave town, cast off my identity and start off somewhere new, but I only shake my head at my shoes and breathe a tired chuckle. There's nothing I can do, what had happened – Happened. It's better to just do what Mr. Ren had done, only moments before as he walked by me: Ignore it.

Sighing for the hundredth time today, I wait for the classroom to fill and even pull out my phone and pretend to be busy on the screen, just so the other students don't think that I am strange for waiting when the door has now been kept open for nearly seven minutes.

I scroll through my socials for a moment, but they are anything but.

When I reach the most recent posts on my timeline, I only scoff at the addition to my pain meekly. I must be quite gaunt, but I'll not be looking in the mirror today, not after pinching my fingers and zooming into every crook and line of her head that tilted onto his shoulder.

My heart aches in a brutal but dull way. There were attempts at leaving with grace, but I assumed with his regular calls, Leo was struggling to move on as much as I fought myself against answering his dial and running back to him altogether. I miss him in my bones and my blood desires for nothing more than to just give up and intertwine my love with him once again, just to get the taste of my muse that I had missed for a very long time – But as I glare at his white, beaming smile, my own lips purse sadly for it was the blonde on his arm that caused that grin.

I laugh tiredly to myself and shake my head. With the threatening tears which ached behind my eyes, I blocked his social page and shoved my phone back into Percy's deep pocket of the warm jacket I wore.

Bitterly turning into the classroom when it was almost full, I glared daggers at the back of Rachel's blonde hair as she made her way from Mr. Ren's desk, to her own which sat at the front. I clench my hands around my notebook as I walk to the back of the room, refraining from throwing it on the desk and stabbing my blue pens into my eyes.

_How could two blondes ruin my day within the matter of seconds?_

The lesson starts quicker than I would have preferred, despite the fact that I almost waited 30 minutes for it to get over and done with. I sat at the back of the room, my eyes never leaving Mr. Ren whilst my attention never left the way the veins in his arms bulged when he picked up the massive textbook and flicked through the pages with his long fingers that I had often thought about, since the night he used them so perfectly on me as if his touch was the missing piece to my broken puzzle that was a botched picture of desire and longing.

I scowled to myself when his deep voice broke the sacred silence of the class, bringing my heart to a peak.

I feel dirty and foolish, almost ashamed of the little crush that I carried for my Professor. I have to look away from the front when my eyes gloss over with an ignorant set of tears that are brought by the conclusions of both Leo and Mr. Ren, although, neither of them were ever possibilities.

I hate myself for falling into a stupid cliché that had been so easy to avoid all these tireless months, before Mr. Ren had taken over Mr. Roy, who was an intolerable man, but an unattractive one at least. I flicker through the messy pages of my notebook, eventually settling on the poem I had written days ago, which was _lightly_ based on my Professor.

I grind the pen between my fist at the curvature of my writing, I had even twined the ink nicer than usual for Mr. Ren's reading eye. I roll my eyes at the poem, it's as if I had turned back to a love-sick, teenage girl who would fantasise about a man who I'll never get to touch again. A man that's so out of my league, it felt wrong to even think back to the night where I had spread my legs for him, whilst Rachel is most likely picturing the same thing but with her and the raven-haired man.

This is not what I had in mind when I enrolled here to spite my Father. This is not what I thought I would be stressing about in the midst of failing a course, in all honesty. I never wanted to be stuck in a perpetual state of wanting someone so unattainable, not after my break-up with Leo – _But this?_ This stupid, little crush on a man who was simply fulfilling his sex-drive... I almost feel uneasy, merely at the way he would talk so roughly, that it was borderline unethical.

Throughout the lesson, I would throw invisible daggers at the back of Rachel Mathews' head, but it wasn't her fault that she had become intoxicated by Mr. Ren, I mean, I fell for his good looks, almost too quickly, too – But that didn't stop me from deliberating whether she had possibly written an awful poem about Mr. Ren's piercing, dark eyes.

It did make me feel slightly better about myself to think that her's may be worse than my own though, after all, she wasn't very good at Literature anyway, Theatre and Drama were more suited to her talents.

"Miss?" A voice called out, and when I glanced to the cause, I shook myself out of this haze when I realise they were looking straight at me, "Are you still with us?" Mr. Ren was now standing with his textbook tucked under his armpit as his marker was raised to the board but he had become distracted by my own diverted attention, before the ink met the white.

My cheeks burned even brighter when Rachel Mathews' and all the other students turned to face me with furrowed brows, I swallow roughly and lean over my poem in attempts to hide it, although nobody but I, could see it from here.

"Yes – Sorry Sir." I replied quickly, whilst nodding my head even quicker, trying my hardest not to stumble over my own words, whilst I pinched at my palms to soothe the warmth of my flesh, which only calmed a little when everyone turned back around, but it never fled from underneath Professor Ren's impenetrable gaze.

Mr. Ren held a stoic expression, lips pulled into a thin line, face very unamused. "Alright..." He hummed and I breathed a sigh of relief, my shoulders dropping only to stiffen again when he continued to direct his attention to me in front of the whole class, "Then, please answer question 14 on this chapter in your textbook." He closed the textbook in one hand, placing it on his desk and then folded his arms, veins even more prominent than before.

I gulped and felt both my stomach and heart sink instantaneously, quickly glancing down to my notebook, I timidly reached for my textbook out of my bag and in the midst of painful seconds, I bite my lip and swear my heart is going to pounce out of my chest as I try to find the chapter that everyone had opened before them.

I looked to the girl who sat on the table next to mine for sheepish help, but she only contributed to the graffiti on the tables of the room, so she just gave me a small shrug.

Way over defeated and standing on torn war grounds, I bite the inside of my cheek once again, harshly, and glare back to my teacher, "Sir, I-I'm not sure," I mustered out with all the confidence I had left, but with the stifling laughter from the classmates, all that was left had diminished at once.

Professor Ren tilted his head to the side with fake worry, bringing his marker to his lips and biting against it as he said, "You're not sure... But I thought you were listening?" Mr. Ren countered sardonically, seeming as if he was almost enjoying the mortified expression that I held, as I caught the way his lips twitched before pulling them back into a thin line.

I shake my head, flicking through my textbook with false hope of finding the right chapter, "I was, but–"

Mr. Ren rolls his brown eyes into white and I swallow my lies down harshly, before they get me into more trouble. It's horrifying to me that he is acting almost too professional, rude and satirical, when only days ago, he leaned me over that desk that he then sat upon.

Folding his hands into his lap he said for all the class to hear as I shrunk in my seat,

"Question 14's answer is, the cadence – Meaning the pattering of rhythm in either, natural speech, but more specifically, in poetry but without a distinct meter or repetitive pattern, for that is more specifically the rhyme of a poem. Two very different things, although they sound the same." He sighed, staring to me with a bored expression as he held out a finger, "Note that down, Miss."

I merely nodded, my mouth feeling like dry sandpaper which is sharp and coarse along my tongue.

His eyes darkened, before swiftly looking around the class at each of the students who struggled in holding in their laughter, Rachel being the worst offender, even though I am certain that she wouldn't know the answer either, even if it was written right in front of her.

After then writing the answer and topics onto the whiteboard, he clicks the lid of his marker back on and says as he flips to another chapter that I struggled to keep up with, "Moving on..."

The more the clock ticked, the more it seemed that the world was swallowing me whole as I sunk further and further into my chair in embarrassment, wishing the lesson was over instead so I can burn bright red in peace. The blush I had been fighting since the beginning of the class rose to the surface and stayed for the rest of the lesson, making me even more adamant not to look up at him but alas, I couldn't fight it, every now and then.

When I took a peek at him when the lesson fell silent and he sat at his desk whilst everyone worked on the chapters, I sucked a sharp breath inwards, for he was already staring through the bent over heads and to me at the back of the room.

In that small fleeting moment, I caught something in my Professor's eyes. Though, I couldn't define exactly what it was but that didn't stop the sharp chill which ran down my spine. Perhaps, it was lustful, pensive, demanding or brooding? I couldn't tell between any of them, but whatever it truly was, I knew teachers should not be looking at their students in such a way, though he shouldn't have moaned over me either – But that didn't stop my expression from caving and causing me to become even more lightheaded with admiration.

The lesson continued on as normal for the last hour, and when there was only 5 minutes left, Mr. Ren described the outline for the next assignment, it seemed short and sweet, but my paper-thin plans had been torn to shreds, for this meant that I had to squeeze something else onto my blank pages, despite my lack of motivation.

It was to complete the rest of the chapter questions, nothing too bad but still, I couldn't care one bit and even I thought about just tearing the answers from google, but last time I plagiarised, I got brutally called out... And from Mr. Ren's previous callings to me in front of the class, next time I do something like that, I am certain he won't let me get away with it.

When the lesson finally finished, I was working so hard to distinguish what it was that I had completely missed at the end as I began to pack my bag and watch the dozens of students walk out the door.

When the room became empty, I only shoved my books into my bag quicker, attempting to get out of the room before Mr. Ren notices I am the last person, as in the meantime, he just types nonchalantly on his laptop.

"Should I be worried about your constant, distracted attention in class?" Mr. Ren's voice asked above the screen and I almost jumped in my seat, but instead, just cursed softly beneath my breath and continued to put my pens into my jacket pocket. "Is this a problem that I am going to have to tell the Chancellor about?" The professor shook his head slightly before tearing his eyes away from the blue-light and flicking it up to me.

His next words though, were enough to force me to jump out of my seat and throw the strap of my backpack over my shoulder, "No – Of course not, Sir!" I defended as I rushed to the front of the room, preparing a farewell as I make my way over to the door.

Just the thought of me, being sat down before my Father in his office, having to explain my reasonings of being often distracted, whilst the motivator of all my diversions, was sitting right beside me and before him too, was enough to make my skin run cold, leaving my crimson cheeks to twist pale.

Mr. Ren holds out his finger again to me, just when I reach for the handle of the door, "Wait." He called deeply, then nudging his head to the other direction as he said, "Come over here."

Glaring at my own distorted reflection in the doorknob, I then clenched my eyes shut tightly and opened them again as I turned and forced a smile onto my face, though it trembled wearily. My footsteps echo in my own mind as if I am walking the plank of a pirate riddled ship, but they only muffle beneath my penetrating heart that began to beat unsteady when I stepped in-front of his desk.

Professor Ren knits his eyebrows together and twines his hands over the armrests of his chair, almost ripping the material to shreds with his strong grip that I had pictured clenched around my own neck, once or twice before.

 _Stop it!_ My conscience cursed.

I was lost in my sudden ease, with just his flicker of a gaze that laid upon me so heavily it could battle the thick tension to thin slopes. He narrowed those soulful browns,

"Are you sure that there's nothing distracting you?" He muttered, with his lips that were pale, but my mind flickered over the memory of them being a bright, glossy red from my own kisses, almost resembling the flashes of the reminiscent love bites that littered my hidden collarbones.

Sitting there so calm, he was a clash to my inner terrors with his presence exuding authority, but thrashing me clean with ignominy. My knees trembled in my place, but my clenched fists were keeping me still. My mind flickered to Rachel Mathews' who was obviously pining over the Professor before me, but when those burning eyes laid back upon me, they tore a hole into my jealousy and flooded it dry, for I suddenly realised, yet again, I was the one who he called back... Though, truely that means nothing.

 _Is there something distracting me? Yes. It's you, Sir! –_ I wanted to scream into his handsome face, but I rather I simply said,

"No, Nothing – I am certain, Sir." I smiled, trying to keep the conversation to a minimal before I embarrassed myself any further.

Mr. Ren tilts his head to the side again and for a second I wondered if that was a habit of his, but when I realise that I had subconsciously copied him, with just the gentle pull of my own head, I quickly snapped it back up before he realised.

Narrowing his eyes, he sighs in his seat and pushes down his laptop screen, leaving me to be able to see his broad chest further enough to notice that I could see his skin peeking out of the crooks of his white-button up.

Humming beneath his breath, he leans further back into his desk chair comfortably, as if it was a throne and he was examining me for his next banquet meal, which I would be served to him on a golden platter, and for a moment, I didn't mind that idea.

His brown eyes are burning me to a crisp inside with that honey glow and I have to keep reminding myself of how he must be a sex addict or something, and that he must know that young girls like me are incapable of saying no to him, when he seems as if he was built upon the blueprints of everyone's sexual fantasies.

"Huh. It just seems you are often... In a daze." He drawls his words low, and raspy, I almost moan just at the delight of the sound that soothed all my inner creases to a stray. Only shrugging, I wasn't certain how to explain myself any further than just that, but when he only raises his eyebrows, I realise that he is expecting a verbal answer and I stumble over my words quickly to break the brittle silence.

"Oh, I–Um," I stutter, "I suppose, I am just tired?"

There's no guilt that comes with my quick answer, for I have been up all night thinking about him for days now, and it's leaving me completely restless – Although, he doesn't need to know any of that.

Mr. Ren hums heavy below his breath, his inviting and tasteful lips, pursing into a thin line and with that sound, I swear it even vibrates my bones. As the tension only becomes more smothering, with his invisible and passion inducing smoke, I become the prey to his eyes but the victim to his next words as they shock me raw with the deep tone and meaning.

"Maybe, if you told me your problem, I could help you fix it." He said, striking me completely with a paralysed expression that contemplated his meaning but didn't want to take it the wrong way, "After all, that is what I am here for." He cooed, as his brown eyes shifted into something... More.

I swallow roughly and with the dying nerves, they only become frayed with apprehension that cords around my blood tightly, forcing a coma of elation to replace the cells.

There's a lot of things that I want him to fix. I so desperately want him to knead every muscle and crevasse of my body with those big hands and make me fall undone like the popping of buttons which are barely hanging onto the material that covers his strong and toned chest, which I wanted to run my hands over and across.

It seemed I had shunned my conscience away or it too, had shaken itself dizzy before the intoxication of his eyes and was choosing to be quietly ashamed as every part of me, wanted to crawl on my hands and knees back to the Professor so savagely, no matter if he was using me or not.

_What had I become?_

"I–" I began to try and collect my words but it seemed nothing could be formed by my tongue-twisted mouth that his simple gaze had caught and flustered. Though, it didn't matter, for before I could splutter anything else out, he cut me off.

"But before any of that," He chimes, a small perk forming across his soft lips which he ran his silky tongue over before saying his next words, "Do you have your poem that I had requested off of you, last week?"

I suck a brisk breath of air in, knowing where this could lead. Though all my defences had been torn down by him as if they were made by wet cardboard, but I didn't care so much, for it was the way he mansplained in his chair slowly, that made all of my-barb-wired, desire, clip undone as if he had brought wire-cutters too.

But all at once, my cheeks turn that brutal crimson once more, when I remember the poem that I had written and the idea of him reading something that I had clearly based off of him, is torture to my growing need.

"Um, yes I do..." I begin, "But–"

"Alright, thank you." He cut me off once more, his voice shifting back to a deadpanned tone as well as his expression, stunning me to the core as I furrowed my brows in perplexity. "Just put it on my desk and you can be excused."

Taken aback, I searched the tension between us for his missing elation, wondering where the previous shine in his eyes, that had initially brought me back to swooning, had gone? But no matter how much I stared to him in this quiet unnerving, I couldn't find even a freckle of lust anymore within him – As if I had unknowingly stolen it all out of him with my misty breath that wavered before him.

_Was that it? Had I possibly imagined his innuendos, body language and tones?_

"What?" I whisper, forcing a confused smile onto my face that shook with my nervous chuckling.

My laughter only falls limp in the air when he doesn't join in nor even crack a smile. I am awaiting the scolding to come by the nonchalant look on his face that forms like a defence to keep me from seeing what could convey further than just those blank stares he would give.

All at once, my smile falls and I begin to brace for the shut down impact, gathering all my torn shreds of wet and limp cardboard, to attempt to build me a paper fort, though it only caves once more over me.

"The poem?" Professor Ren raises an eyebrow, then motioning to the edge of his desk, that I had unknowingly crept closer to, gripping my hands around the hardwood edges. "Just leave it with me and you can get on with your day, it looks like the rain is finally settling, so you might want to walk back to your dorm before it storms again." He continues, but didn't even bother glancing to the windows, which the rain still poured down the glass as chaotically as I wanted to cry, right this second.

My conscience comes back to life, in attempts to be my saviour in this incredibly, rough moment. It whispered to me what I had sought over this past lesson, explaining that he had already gotten what he wanted, so why would he need more?

There was even a taunt, and when my little voice spoke it, I almost wished it was a real person so I could punch it square in the nose.

_He's probably waiting for you to leave so he can invite Rachel Mathews' back in and bend her and her golden hair, across his desk._

I shake my head at my own, swirling and vicious thoughts.

Forcing another smile onto my face, it seems it falls as flat as my shoulders, no matter how hard I tried to fake something that I couldn't even possess.

"Oh, okay." I nodded, shuffling my bag over my shoulder and across my torso, beginning to unzip it.

The sound reminds me of his pants unzipping as I laid so vulnerable and excited below him. It reminds me of the way his belt swiped through his buckles and loops, so tenaciously that it brought a passionate sweat to bead across my skin, that once trembled with just the idea of what punishment he could've had in store for me, but wondrously, that was the best punishment I have ever received.

My eyes widen just when my hand grips onto the binding of my notebook in my bag and a sudden grace floods my veins with drunk adrenaline that runs on the fuel of only his touch.

A chaotic and aching idea is shoved to the fore-front of my mind as he awaits for me to give him the poem that he had requested, and although it could only leave me in dreaded ruins, the leap I make to get what I want, is well worth the sudden adrenaline.

"S-Sir?" I utter, dropping my notebook back into my bag and zipping it back up, like a vault of secrets to hide away as covertly as I had presumed he had hidden his emotions in his desk drawer.

Glancing back to my, stunning and addictive, Professor, I awaited to speak my adrenaline into existence, but when he hummed below his breath, I couldn't have said them any slower, as my hands twined around the edge of his desk further.

"It's not in my bag..." I lie, biting my bottom lip softly and falling into the darkness of his eyes, which I wished I could live within forever,

"It looks like I have seemed to have forgotten it."

Professor Ren inhales a sharp breath, the blue cords in his neck, tensing and popping out as if they flooded with as much adrenaline as mine did.

"You've forgotten it?" He repeats my own words, feeling how it tastes upon his tongue.

Suddenly, that look that I had missed so much in only the matter of seconds, had returned. I smiled at my victory. Metaphorically high-fiving my adrenaline and then falling to my knees before my desire.

"Y-Yes," I nod, this time not worrying about what he may think, when I tilt my head to the side, "I-I'm sorry."

His mouth twitches and he bites and licks the plump, now rosy, bottom lip.

Then, Mr. Ren shakes his head and spreads his legs further, even rolling his chair back a bit for me to see.

"Sorry doesn't cut it." He says with a certain rasp, that I can remember as clearly as my favourite song. I swallow down his words and give him a lustful gaze, letting him know that I will forever want his touches, even if it means nothing to him.

His eyes burn deep into my soul "Do you recall what happened last time you had been naughty?" Mr. Ren asks, as if I am a child.

As if I am poor, young Lolita, who used her sharp tongue to get whatever she wanted from Humbert.

I nod, biting my bottom lip as the sound of his zipper clashed with my memory of it and his belt buckle broke the reality.

Just before I knelt before him, placing myself between his long legs and hiding myself beneath his desk, right beside his locked away drawer of emotion, I uttered one last sentence,

_"All too well, Sir."_


	9. EIGHT

The desperate exigency which shot right through my system, became the fire of my loins whilst the adrenaline in my blood rising rapidly, felt like blazing electricity. 

I wasted no time that ticked on the old analog-clock that was perched on the wall above his desk, crawling beneath that same very furniture as he used the edge of the desk as a leverage to make space for me to tuck myself between his wide-spread legs. 

Accidentally knocking down a binder of paper, I feel the white sheets crumple beneath my knees as I position myself and hardly notice the smirk that rose across my Professor's handsome face as I wished that the crumpling was instead swapped for the soft silk of perhaps, his bedsheets – But I knew that would never happen, so the grimy classroom floors will do.

My cheeks turned a burning scarlet, so much so, that it could be confused for a fever as Mr. Ren used his big hand to pull me further into the crook of his legs, holding it softly to my cheek afterwards and running his eyes along my face as he brushed the skin ever-so-softly. 

But then, the hand falls to my neck and tightened reasonably around it. The action managed to elicit a moan from me, despite the slowly closing of my airways, which he would tighten and then let go of, just to repeat the process and the sound of me whispering and whimpering passionately for air.

When he let go, it seemed as if he had allowed the rush of my blood to finally flood to my brain and smother all of my introversion, leaving me feeling bubbly with a yearning need as I grew confident and arched upwards, heading straight for that mouth which never quivered nor became taken aback.

He leaned in automatically and caught my trembling lips with his, his tongue shoving in harshly and causing my eyes to roll closed in elation at the taste he gave, whilst also causing goosebumps to litter all along my skin, when his musk also floods my senses. I moaned into his mouth as his fingers curled into my hair and tugged the strands roughly, and when he caused my neck to pull back, his lips only followed and shoved against mine even harder. 

I can't believe that I am getting myself into this situation again, but I also can't believe someone like him is even kissing me anyway – This could be all one big, fevered dream and upon waking up, I would understand finally, all of my disorientating wonders as to how the hell, this is happening. 

I smiled in victory when his kiss finally moved into the crook of my neck, abusing the tender skin that burned for him, as if he was a moth and I was the poor lamp that tried to mimic a sun for him to yearn for.

His tongue stroked harshly and his teeth nipped sharply. I whimpered at the feeling of his warm mouth upon me, something that I had only imagined since the last time he had buried his face into my neck so deliciously. He groaned at the loss of friction, bucking his hips up desperately for contact, as if to remind me of my purpose. 

I wind my hands around wherever I can reach from at this awkward angle, as I hover above the floor but arched up out of the desk – The both of us, seemingly forgetting about the wide, curtain drawn windows that surround one half of the classroom – But at the returning thought, I pull away from his teeth, causing my skin to snap through his pearly-whites and bruise straight away as I kneel behind the covering of the desk, running my hands on his thighs as he breathes heavily and rests his forearms back onto his chair. 

Craning my face up to him, I gaze to him through hooded lids and I watch his nonchalant face slowly become the expression of the clash between brooding and desire, in the reticent person that Mr. Ren was – But when I cup his clothed erection gently, the raven-haired man, let out a deep groan of surprise, bucking his hips up slowly into my hand. 

Then, my hand movements pressed and grounded upon him some more, growing as harsh as his hands that began to twine back into my hair again, and reasonably, more desperate.

The thought of him so hard beneath my own touch, as if he was as addicted to me as I was with him, made me pretty nervous, yet excited at the same time to try and redeem myself worthy of being his play-thing forevermore, instead of the blonde and gorgeous girl who sat, for-front and centre, in every one of his lessons.

It didn't take long though, for Mr. Ren to growl in impatience and flick my hand away in order to unbutton the top of his dress-pants, which were already unzipped but I had tried to ignore that as I wanted to see how far I could go before the crimson began to scorch beneath his marble features.

Mr. Ren only gave himself two long and slow, strokes up and down his shaft as if he was merely dipping himself first into the pool of euphoria that I currently adorned into, whilst he watched my features change at the sensual sight. 

Hands then returning to my head and almost pushing onto the back of it slightly, I only stared at the exposed member hungrily, whilst his fingers then curled and knotted into my hair in carnality.

I wrapped my hand around him with a threatening tug in my hair, causing me to whimper simultaneously as I began to move my fingers up and down around his incredible length. In my movements, he began to breathe heavily above me and even snatched a hand out of my hair, to grip around the arm of his chair tightly and I swallow at the sight of his white knuckles.

I tried to allow myself the time to relax in the foreplay. I had no idea why I was so nervous, I had done this many times before – But I can't say that I have ever touched one of my Professor's, let alone a gorgeously, intoxicating one, like this before. 

Mr. Ren threw his head back slightly in pleasure, but he still keep his gaze fallen to me in-between his long legs, his breath only picking up pace as I did too. His little, throaty moans and quick breathing was like the greatest love song to be ever heard upon heavenly ears, but suddenly, the Professor only changed the bridge of the tune with his deep and raspy tone that could shake me to the core, no matter how many times I could listen. 

He growls whilst his blunt fingernails scrape along the back of my neck, "Stop being such a fucking tease and put your pretty mouth to use."

I gasp low below my breath, fanning the wind onto his pink member which throbs in my hand. Making sinful eye-contact once more, I swam in the colour that swirled around his enlarged pupils with something much more dangerous than just desire.

Professor Ren, is a hauntingly, striking piece of art and yet it is only the taste of his lips that properly convey his beauty, for he is such a mystery to an observer's eye and with those pretty and scarlet lips parted before me, it is his speaking tongue that forces me to swap my fingers for my own mouth. 

Indestructible passion is channelled through the winding arousal that overdoses in my veins, making my bones jittery with anticipation and impatience, simultaneously, whilst tinting my vision red, as if I no longer needed rose-coloured-glasses anymore; For my ignorant and childish desire, was becoming my new anthem and value, every-time I was around my Professor.

I twisted my neck around swiftly as if preparing for a marathon, the sound of bones cracking loud against the beat of my own heart and just before I leaned my lips down to his length, I noticed briefly how he bit his bottom lip at the movement.

First, I lick a stripe of saliva up his thick shaft and when he sighs my name like it's a _fucking_ miracle, I slowly allowed the length to fall further down my mouth until the tip hit the back of my throat and my lips flushed with the bone of his groin. Pausing for a moment to allow my jaw to unlock with the large size falling heavily on my tongue. I swallowed around it, the muscles of my throat caressing Mr. Ren's throbbing erection, to which he groaned once more at the sensation.

I could taste the desperation and passion just as I could sense it overflowing off his sweaty skin. 

After a while, my jaw slacked around his length and I became more confident in my movements, digging my fingernails into the bones of his hips as I began to bob my head low and high, gliding and swirling my tongue around every inch he had.

Picking up pace and hollowing my cheeks to apply suction, I can feel Mr. Ren's eyes burning through my skin whilst he watches with those dark and dangerous eyes as my eyelids squeeze shut in concentration. 

I listen to Mr. Ren's deep groans and feel him tighten his fingers ruthlessly onto the roots of my hair, making a messy maze of it, but I didn't care one bit. 

When his legs began to shake, I knew that release was finally building within and he wailed as quietly as he could, whilst I slowly pulled my mouth off and then licked the skin from root to tip. He anchored his hands in my hair, tugging the strands harshly and throwing his head back, showing off the blue-corded veins that rushed bliss in the scorching blood.

My hand returned then, wrapping around the base of his member and I began administering firm strokes where my mouth wasn't busy. I could tell the friction and warmth was becoming too much for the moaning man to take as I took a brisk look up at him and through my eyelashes, I realised that this was a bad idea, as he was already a beautiful scarlet colour and when we met gazes, he trembled into my mouth, bucking up and forcing himself to reach the back of my throat – I moaned around him, just as he released and lurched his neck back, whilst still keeping his hand twisted into my roots.

With one last stroke, I pulled back completely and was startled by the whine that erupted out of the brooding man, at the loss of contact as I began to wipe my mouth, but a wave of pleasure submerged me back into his deepest oceans, when he pulled me up from my collar, uncaring when I hit my back against the desk, and kisses me – Tasting himself upon my own hungry mouth. 

Now sitting on his lap, once again, the windows that surround us seem to be covered enough from the many bushes around them, but still, there's a slight fear and thrill about someone seeing us, and for my sake, if I have to be caught kissing my Professor, whilst I sit on his naked lower-half, I hope it is Rachel who is watching. 

But nobody is watching. It's only him and I, in this very moment and as we finally pull away from each-other, Mr. Ren lowers his head and keeps his eyes upon me coyly, as I chew on my bottom lip to still the devious smile that crept up. 

In the fiery and passionate breath that we heave onto one another's features, Professor Ren only says one thing, not with a smile but rather a gleam of his eye and in that moment, I had figured that, other than his features that cave in arousal, this was the most emotion that he had ever given to me, whilst the corner of his mouth also seemed to swipe up slightly,

"Good girl." He rasped.

His hands began to toy with my messy hair, flattening, patting and running his fingers through it, to keep it from looking so disheveled, but a part of me considered that maybe, he was doing it to just prolong this delirious moment between us. 

There's no part of me that feels guilty for being his submissive once more, allowing myself to be _possibly_ used by such a dominant man, who had no reasoning to even wish to be curling my hair behind my ear so softly. 

This classroom is like prison walls, but I do not care if it is in this room where I feel the most freed, guided by his rough hands that can allow me to come undone. I do not care if I am suddenly stuck in my own ignorant darkness, as if I am blind to see all of his red warnings that fade into the rose-coloured-glass invisibly, for it seems I am only left melancholy in the light – Where the past haunts me and steals whatever inch of creativity I have. 

But as his hands then softly glide over my crimson, blemished cheeks, I go stiff in his hold and furrow my brows at the cold touch of silver. 

I swallow slowly before turning my head to look at the ring on his left hand, which is clasped so tightly around his forth finger that I cannot believe that I hadn't seen it before. 

He keeps gliding his wedding ring upon me and as he thumbs my lips he asks, "What's the matter?"

I flinch. My body suddenly tightens as I shift back into focus to reveal him peering into my eyes and searching for the fear to build in my hues. My stomach churns in a swell of hatred mixed with loss, creating a perfect potion that will tug me into its power of defying disobedience. 

Flashes of my Father's face morphs upon his and that's when the nausea becomes too much to handle as I suddenly put myself in the shoes of the secretary that my Father was having an affair with, whilst my Mother waited with a cold dinner back home – I shifted into the girl that Leo intertwined around himself on prom night, as I waited by the punch bowl for him to return. 

My heart is hammering but I keep my gait casual with no hint of hesitation as I slowly climb off of his lap and allow him to zip up his pants as I glare to the floor, trying to figure out my disorientation once more. 

It was as if my life had become a constant rollercoaster and I didn't know how to jump off. 

"Are you–" Just when he begins to talk once more, I cut him off.

"You have a wife?" I blurt, snapping my head to him and narrowing my eyes in confusion and betrayal – Though, not on my behalf, it seems. 

Finally, for the first time it seems, the Professor caves in a wave of emotion, seeming taken aback and shocked as his eyes furrow, only to widen to me as a flush of a different type of crimson, forms just below his jaw whilst he shakes his head.

When the gloss rises over my eyes, he raises his hands in the air as a motion of defence and the silver ring only gleams in the air, scowling and taunting me in the glimmers. 

_I had become what I hated most._

He cocks his head to the side and flicks out his tongue to the corner of his mouth, clicking it and scoffing, "N–" 

I shake my head and huff a sarcastic breath of tired laughter. Glaring at the ring only to turn around and sling my backpack over my shoulder, I wipe the remnants of his kiss with Percy's sleeve as I trudge out of the classroom, before he can even begin his sinful lies that my Father had pleaded to my Mother for years. 

"Whatever," I spit, but there's a pensive sadness that quivers in my chin as I twist the doorknob and walk through the exit. 

There's a Scarlet Letter which is scorching through my clothes and burning an, 'A,' into my heart, just like Hester Prynne in the Scarlet Letter – A punishment best suited for cheaters and those who convey in adultery with married men, and my heart cried out loud at the pain.

"See you next lesson, _Sir."_ I sighed over his muffled words, then turning into the empty hallway and leaving with my Scarlet Letter as my desire only fled. 

The guilt sat not in my brain but on my chest as if it was an anchor to my stupid and dimwitted triggering of desire that had regretfully, taken over my true consciousness. Only in my silent prayers could I plead for mercy, but I fret that I do not deserve it. 

Ever since I had found out that my Father cheated on my Mother with his secretary, I had hated the faceless woman almost as much as I hated him – She knew what she was doing. She had as much of a part as my Father did, in tearing our love and family apart. 

And now, I'm that secretary to someone – And even though nobody would ever find out about what Mr. Ren and I had done, I still clung onto this guilt as if it was what was left of my shredded sanity.

Tossing and turning, I didn't sleep at all that night, and as the clock shifted from night to morning, I mourned my mistakes and cursed to the sunrise for it meant that what I had done, could not be undone. 

But in the brewing sunlight of day, as I laid in the mess of my cracked values and hardships, someone that I didn't need nor wanted, called with all their baneful desires, which always had the power to make my heart skip a beat, no matter what he had done to me as now, I tossed in a situation much like his.

_And I answered._


	10. NINE

Under a honey and blue sky, the people of New York paint their world with winter coats _._ The colours of their fabrics were vibrant and unweathered by the wintry onslaughts that the week had previously brought, but it seemed that they didn't need to bring their umbrellas today, for the sun's rays was the only thing falling down from the sky.

My mind is a defensive difference to the calm of today. There is a gentle blow of breeze which elopes the warmth of the coffee shop that sat on the edge of a busy street which met the embrace of the city.

The city was overwhelming, and it was crazy to think that the college campus was only twenty minutes away from the edge of the metropolis. All of the tall buildings, the street-lamps, the cars and the roads, they all were hidden behind a thick crowd of heads that seemed to be never-ending as they all trudged by the window that I sat beside and longingly searched out of for him to show.

It was as if everyone had pulled out their brightest attire to welcome back the sun's arrival as it had been hidden by the thickening of the clouds for too long. The colours of their attire were as colourful as a summer garden of bold yellows, magentas, cyans and emerald greens on this Friday afternoon, and even though the city workers who sat behind desks all day long, were still forced to wear their uniform of bland suits and ties, they still had a certain beam to their grins as they all pushed through the bell-door of the cafe, excited to get some lunch on this grand day.

I seemed to be the only one in New York that wasn't having the time of their life. My mind was spinning like a whirlpool, the bright smiles, the boastful cheers, the scraping of knives and forks on cake plates, all becoming one big mess to my overbearing senses.

As the clock on the wall only kept ticking and ticking, I began to feel sick as his arrival was well overdue. I lifted my head from my hands and glanced back out the window and to the sky in an attempt to find cool air but was instead, met with my own reflection in the pane, to which only the feeling of intense guilt and foolery at my agreement, circled in my regretful eyes. 

How could I have just so easily fallen into his trap? I should have never answered his phone call at all.

I daze into the relocation of answering it hesitantly, my breath and his being the first thing to be heard in the static of a connected line, and as I held my phone to my ear with shaking hands, it felt heavy with a thousand memories as he spoke.

Memories of not just those that my camera roll could tell, but the ones that were held in the melody of his voice which I only pressed my ear closer to secretly, falling limp to the satisfaction of sinking back into the familiarity of Leo Grey.

We spoke for an hour and four minutes exactly, but I would never admit to counting down the minutes on my alarm clock as I asked him everything I have needed to lately. I hadn't asked him about the blonde girl on his socials though, I was still too self-conscious to even admit my jealousy.

He had the courage to ask me to see him as he was bidding his farewell, and with my cascaded, brittle heart, I only obliged and that's why I sit here now, in the dreamscape cafe where he and I used to take a forty minute subway to, every second Friday, just because of the soulful atmosphere which could only elevate our teenage love.

There was no talk of piecing together our relationship, only the mending details of trying to sew together our broken shards of friendship, and then just wait to see where that may go – But both of us could read the silence of our slightly opened lips on each side of the line, our quiet breaths, desperately begging to just say how we really feel for each-other.

I didn't love Leo Grey anymore, I truely didn't – But I seem to be having a hard time adjusting to this new lifestyle – And with the perplexity of the illicit affair between my Literature Professor and I, _who recently_ , I had figured out that he had a wife, I realised that I was slowly embedding a knife into my ignorant future.

It was the lust and the passion that resulted in me forming some clarity in the midst of all this haze, the desire that burned for Mr. Ren showcasing that deep within, I yearned for something more.

I longed to not feel lonely anymore – And foolishly, I knew that I couldn't continue being Mr. Ren's plaything, so I think my heart was just masking my mind and cursing to _unwisely_ wish to return back into the dangerous relationship with Leo, who had haunted me since the moment he buried our relationship.

But Leo is fifty minutes late to our rekindling now, and I am starting to lose hope of him even showing up at all. Was this all some sinful ploy to feed into his sick narcissism? Calling me up just to see if I truely needed him as he would always tell me so?

I sigh in utter melancholy to the foam in my cold latter. The air is thick with the scent of bitter coffee and although, I drink in the aroma like everyone else does, I will never sip from my cup as I still cling to the handle in tight hopes of Leo still walking through that door.

If my Father had taught me anything in the years of my life, it is that to never get excited for something incase it doesn't happen, but I obviously have never been a good listener or student, for I had never done exactly that. People were buzzing around like busy bees, hearing the call of their name, grabbing their take-away coffee and walking out the door, leaving with nothing but the bell-chime of a departure.

Biting my bottom lip, I swore to myself that I would only wait another ten minutes, and then leaned down to get my bag to pull out the book that I had thrown inside it this morning.

I glare to the title. The lettering alone, was enough to make me feel sick, but last night after being kept awake by my own mind till the sun rose, I decided that – Yes, I could no longer pursue the intoxicating Professor, but that didn't mean I couldn't constantly remind myself about him. And after swiping through every vision and picture of him in my mind's memory, I was left with nothing to feed off of anymore, nothing but the book that collected the most dust in the bottom corner of my bookshelf.

I was already up to chapter 4 of Lolita, and though I have read it before with a sick taste in my mouth, I couldn't believe the similarities between Humbert and Mr. Ren. Was I his Lolita? Was Mr. Ren some sick and perverted man, and I was the girl who had simply fallen into his trap for her own pleasure?

I swipe the poem I had written for him out of the binding, then folding it to the side as my bookmark and after that, I begin flickering my eyes upon the beautiful words of such a problematic storyline, which I think I may have fallen into, if it weren't for the silver ring on _my_ _Humbert's_ forth finger.

"I thought that you despised Vladimir Nabokov's work?" A heavy voice suddenly brought me out of the binding of the pages. His tone by itself was enough to send a sharp shot down my spine and sprinkle goosebumps all over my skin.

Peering my eyes out of the book and lowering it below my chin slowly, for a moment, I wonder if this is all some sick hallucination and I was in-fact still on the subway on my way to the coffee shop and the tall and handsome, Mr. Ren was merely just a figment of my imagination as I had dozed off against the rattling window.

But unfortunately, the heat which rose to my cheeks was all too scorching to not be reality.

There Mr. Ren stood before my table, his right hand holding a take-away cup and his other merely shoved into his jacket pocket. Time slowed around him again as if that was his secret superpower, the busy shop becoming nothing behind him as the sun that beamed out the windows, only gave the dark man a halo to masquerade his tenacious, sexual desires.

My eyes widen slightly when I realise that time didn't truly slow, and he was awaiting an answer from me as I clung to the novel in my hands for dear life, my knuckles turning white around the binding. Then gasping, I snatch the folded poem off of the table and shove it into the page that I was up to and slam the book close before he can see the writing that I said I had lost.

"Mr. Ren." I said in shock, as if I hadn't seen him in a long period of time, which was quite surprising for it was only days ago that I had his length down my throat. My stomach swirls nervously and makes me feel nauseous with a deep bitterness, despite the fact that I hadn't even touched my coffee.

"What are you doing here?" I gawked, flickering my eyes behind him to make sure that this wouldn't be the unfortunate time that Leo shows. 

"I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart." Mr. Ren smirked, twisting the cup in his hand. I swallow curtly at his fingers, that same sacred desire rushing through me and dancing with my sudden anxiety to his arrival. I watch those fingers tersely, the way they are so rough and long, but they could fit perfectly with my own.

I felt my face burn at the name he gave me so warmly, to which he only snickered at and it was a stark difference to the reproachful glares he would usually give.

The coffee shop continued humming with chatter, but my head was still swirling with the humiliation of the previous encounter between the Professor and I, me kneeling beneath his desk, his harsh encouragements, the wedding ring, the tears, the awkward departure.

I tried to keep my head low, fixed on my untouched drink and hoping very much that Mr. Ren wouldn't notice my disheveled features as he casually slipped into the booth with me – His knee brushing mine as he sat on the edge beside my half of the table.

"D-Don't." I give him a curious glance, my words falling limp in the air, despite the fact that I had tried to utter them aggressively.

Flinching my knee away from his, he only sighs and throws his arm around the backing of the booth right behind my neck.

"Don't, what?" He hummed, tilting his head to the side and watching me with an inspecting gaze – Much like the way his features would twitch as he was typing quickly on the keyboard of his laptop at the front of the classroom.

I tear my eyes away from the magnetic pull of his own and glance to the take-away coffee that he loosely now cupped below the permanent marking of his name, which was written onto the paper.

I can tell it is a cappuccino from the way the foam is already curling around the opening of the lid. Furrowing my brows, cappuccinos always remind me of my Father, for that is all he drank – It is over-priced to say it is more foam than caffeine and yet, it is still somehow, too bitter.

"Don't call me a pet name as if there is something between us." I murmur to his hands, ignoring the shake of my own that I shove between my thighs, whilst also sitting on the edge of my novel so he won't ask about it again.

He twines his fingers around it tighter, enjoying the heat that spreads through his large hands that have wrapped around the expanse of my neck the same way before.

"Isn't there something going on between us?" His rough voice hums, causing me to look back to him, finally noticing the lack of space between my trembling heart and his dark and brooding one.

The curve of his bottom lip twitches into a half smile and with the contrast of rosy red against perfect, white teeth, I stutter incoherent words to which he only cocks a thick brow at and chuckles. This close, I can smell his sweet scent which was like candy to my senses, only he smelt of woodsmoke and vanilla.

I want to swipe his burning coffee over my skin to scorch some sense into me as I fall in to his charming demeanour, when indeed, my subconscious wanted me to run as far as I could away from him.

 _I was simply just some experiment or plaything to the twisted mind that sat behind his gorgeous eyes._ I have to keep telling myself.

"No." I narrow my eyes and shake my head, "Y-You're my teacher..."

The Professor chuckled, throwing his head back and showcasing all of the blue-corded veins in his long neck below the dark facial hair he had. Then turning back to me, he gave me a sheepish smile and I was smacked by the enchantment of him.

How could he be so restricted and desponded when in-front of his projector and melancholy students, but so bright in the freedom of New York City? Was the cheery weather also rubbing on him, just like everyone else today?

"Really?" He chimed, giving me a deep stare beyond the grin he gave as his next words were loud enough for anyone around to hear, "Because the moment when I bent you across my desk, begs to differ."

I gasp loudly and slip my hands out from between my thighs and hold them up defensively as if I wanted to push the words back into his chest and out of the air. I snap my head to the elderly couple in the booth in-front of us, who scowled upon hearing his boast so confidently.

He only chuckles some more, shaking his head to himself as if he was some sort of comedian. I glare back to him, just as he lifts his drink to his lips and takes a sip.

He paused, letting the tension mount. His solemn gaze only meeting mine as if they were lost without my infuriated direction. I considered making a joke. Blowing the whole thing off like nothing had happened, but the words he spoke had an underlay which my mind had scraped its hands through to find his hidden meaning. I couldn't dismiss the genuine interest beneath his careless sarcasm and my body went rigid all at once.

Did he consider our sexual advancements to be something more than him just using me for his twisted pleasure? Had I read the man wrong this whole time?

I stared at him for a few moments, and behind my own eyes, I am certain he can see the wheels of my thoughts churning and twisting, trying to find an answer to everything that this mysterious man did.

Finally, I breathed out through my nose, like expelling bad energy, giving into my ignorant subconscious when I couldn't find a clearer clarity than the hatred and insecurity it gave.

"You think that counts as something other than cheating?" I snap.

Mr. Ren was like a rose, so beautiful and lush, but deep in his roots, he was covered in thorns.

Taken aback, he flinches slightly but only covers his shocked eyes with the furrowing of his brows, as if he was confused.

"Cheating?" He scoffed with a breath of laughter.

The spreading heat on my face was no doubt destroying my illusion of casualness as my blood began to burn higher than the flames of my cheeks. Just when I am about to scream into my Professor's face and shove him away from me, I glance back to the elderly couple who had just gone back to eating their slices of banana cake and I decide it is better to just hush my anger to the raven man beside me, who's leg had pressed back into mine. 

"You have a wife!" I bark through gritted teeth, but it seems as if he still thought I was too loud as he tutted to me as if I was a child,

"Quiet down." He rolled his brown eyes into white.

I gasped, curling my fingers into fists. Looking to him offended, as if he was some stranger who was interrupting my grand and sunny day, I was shocked to find that he only glared back softly, as if I was someone who had been lost and he had finally found me, but was craning his deep eyes upon every blemish of my face just to make sure that I was truely who he thought I was.

Biting my tongue and swiping my face away and looking back to his hands, I find that the silver ring isn't on his hand anymore, but it seemed my words had already left my mouth before a closer inspection of the naked fingers.

"You're a cheating asshole."

Mr. Ren simply blinked at me and although I wouldn't give him the pleasure of glaring into my soul, I could still watch him from my peripheral's as suddenly, he swipes the hair from out of my face and curls it around my ear.

His eyes really were very striking. He shook his head slightly and looked back down at his hands also, whilst a certain pensive silence fell upon the two of us – Although, my heart was beating louder than the barrister's shouts for names could ever be.

"I'm divorced." He said with a slightly awkward chuckle.

My heart fell into my stomach, burning to a crisp in the lava of guilt that I brewed.

"W–" I tried, but he cut me off.

"– Recently divorced." He added with a sigh as he slid his hand slowly away from the back of the booth and began to fiddle with the naked fourth finger on his other hand, "I usually leave my ring in the bathroom but I guess that morning, I just put it on in habit."

I sat in silence until I finally swallowed enough of my own humiliation down to say, in a slightly croaky voice, "Oh..." Then, looking up, perhaps I was surprised to still see a pensive grin upon his features, "I-I'm so sorry." I whispered.

He studied me for a moment again and for a split second, I assume that I am just another project to him, "No worries." He said, sucking a sharp breath in afterwards and taking another sip of his cappuccino, then adding, "It was my fault really – But it's good to see that you're not slack with cheaters, _unlike some people."_

My Father comes to mind first. Only to then morph into Leo Grey, who still, hasn't showed up to the coffee shop in which we fell in and out of love in.

"You have no idea." I shake my head and sigh, momentarily forgetting that the man beside me was my Professor.

But when he softly says his next word, my whole body nearly falls limp into his side. It takes everything in my soul to not just throw my arms around his neck and force him into a passionate kiss as he blows a delicious breath onto my face and curls his fingers back behind my ear, his thumb lazily brushing over my crimson temple, which beneath the flesh, a vein throbbed desire to my heart at the name he gave.

"Sweetheart?"

I submerge into a hazy desire as I hallucinate to the tongue that pokes out momentarily and wets his rosy, bottom lip as if it was glistening it with an invitation. 

"Y-Yes?" I stuttered meekly.

Falling into the honey cascade of his soulful but harsh eyes, they zoned right onto me, no matter how unattractive the blush across my cheeks must be. In the close quarters of his steady gaze, the smirk he gave was as naked and intimate as a kiss, to which I wanted to pepper onto him.

Then becoming suddenly aware of the way his thigh was boarded to mine, I glanced only quickly to his hand which then began to creep up the material of my thigh. I swallowed roughly as the nerves began to flood to my system as my chest rose and fell with his, and I am certain that he could feel the hammering of my heart through the thin T-shirt that I wore.

"Would you like to get out of here?" He purred.

I must have been ignorant on the walk to the subway this morning and gotten hit by a truck or something, leaving me to be stuck now in a coma, for this cannot be real.

It intrigued me initially to think of the two of us being so close, considering how little we seemed to have in common and how demanding and miserable he could be, but then it all seemed to fall into place the longer I observed the smirk he gave. 

Once again, my subconscious screamed at me to not fall into his trap once more – And this time, I actually listened.

"I can't." I shook my head, breathing heavily at the hand which only crept higher along my thigh, "I'm waiting for someone."

He had a hungry look in his eyes and it frightened me, but only in the way of a curious cat would be brought on edge as they only crept closer to their fears to understand how to truely capture it. 

"And how long have you been waiting for that someone?" He began to murmur into my neck, his breath hitting the goosebumps along my flesh warmly and bringing them to a certain calm. When his facial hair brushes along my skin, his lips barely crazing my neck, I shudder in his grasp.

"An hour." I practically whimper, now beginning to twine my hands around the edge of the table to stay strong in my defences that were slowly and like usual, crumbling before him at his mere touch.

He knew what he was doing. He always did.

It was as if he had read a secret manual on how to make me come undone, and decided that he would use those skills to use with every chance he got.

"Well, then he's not coming." He uttered nonchalantly, and I refused to acknowledge the twinge of my heart at his words, for I somewhat believed him but I didn't want to admit to the fact that Leo had as easily played me as Mr. Ren could.

"He might show up." I whisper, more so to myself than my Professor, but that doesn't stop him from chuckling into my neck and placing one warm kiss onto the skin before retracting out of the crook.

He raised his eyebrows and laughed slightly at the disheveled mess in which he could make me become. Then leaning back and smirking, he gestured me to come closer. Hesitantly, I leaned forward, my heart thudding at the closeness of our faces. 

"He's not going to show up." He whispered, his brown eyes shining wickedly.

I still went red with further embarrassment, but there wasn't that gutting, punch-to-the-stomach feeling I had felt every-time, I had previously fretted over that fact since the moment I had walked through the coffee shop's door, the bell even ringing above me in a melody that laughed at my foolishness.

His hand twined further into the inner lining of my thigh and I throbbed for him as his fingers brushed over the hemming of my crotch. Glancing around as my mouth went dry, I was delighted to see that nobody could see what he was doing, but that didn't stop me from going wild in my own mind – _He was my Professor for God's sake, and look how I let him make me quiver!_

"You don't know that." I trembled my words to him, my eyes falling closed for a split second as he applied a certain pressure, only for them to open once again groggily as if I was drunk with passion or intoxicated by his touch.

I continue, stuttering, "M-Maybe, he's already here and is just getting a drink?"

His chuckling falls silent, his tone now filled with something much more dangerous this time.

"He's not here." He said.

It was as if he had his hand pressed to my windpipe instead, from the way he had cut off all the air from my lungs in this coffee shop on this remarkable day, but he only relaxed his grip on my thighs faintly and when I inhaled finally without the pressure of his touch, he only then, slid his hand around to cup the back of my actual neck, his thumb brushing the soft nape of my hair tenaciously.

I responded ever so slightly, turning my face into his outstretched arm as though I was starved for the touch. _His touch._

I watched him as he swallowed harshly, his adam's apple bobbing slowly as he did so.

"– But I am." He rasped in addition to his previous words.

With his other hand, he reached up and, _with careful purpose_ , peeled his fingers to my parted lips and with that, I seemed to have forgotten about our surroundings, uncaring if anyone watched the elation adorn in my eyes as I gazed with sudden lust to the older man beside me.

"I can't." I hushed to his fingers, now seeing how far this could go, for now I truely knew that there was no way I _wasn't_ leaving with him, "I have to take the train home and I don't particularly want to take it in the dark."

His eyes shift but there's still a swirl of yearning in the brown, "I'll drive you home, now stop making excuses before I have to teach you to not lie to me again."

It was impossible to fight the smile that crept along my lips as reviling in the sight of him and when he smiled, my pulse spiked against his hand and my body seemed to go soft beneath his touch. I shifted my hips forward, just fractionally on the plush seat of the booth, and at the brief brush of my hand against his crotch, he found himself suddenly, painfully hard.

A smile broke the tightness in my expression and his fingers only moved with my sheepish grin. He's the bitterness and the darkness of my world and yet, I was perfectly fine with drowning in his danger.

"M-Mr. Ren..." I whimpered low.

He tilted his head to the side, enjoying the way he had just watched all my walls crumple, _once again,_ to his overbearing power. I still kept my hand upon the tightness of his pants to which he slightly bucked up and into.

His voice suddenly turns into gravel that has melted into rich chocolate, making even the rough bitterness of my latte jealous as he practically groans, "Baby, my name is Kylo."

It took everything in me to not gasp for the hundredth time today. My knees trembled in my place but when his hand upon my mouth, curled to my cheek, he kept me steady as my eyes flicked to his cup and then back to him.

"Your cup says, Ben." I simply chime.

He doesn't even glance to the cup with the name on it as he simply shrugs and says,

"Oh, does it?" His voice is still rough, never forgetting the desire burning within his veins as we held each-other so secretly and intimately, in this busy coffee shop, "I guess I must have just picked up the wrong drink."

 _Kylo._ The name was like a melody that was now stuck in my mind forever, and even as the bell chimed a rhythm to our departure whilst his hand curled around the small of my back, it was nothing compared to the way his name had been sung from his tongue.

Ans as the two of us met the busy city streets, I felt no guilt for leaving my cold coffee behind and my needs for rekindling a truely dead relationship as I timidly asked my Professor,

_"Where are we going to go?"_


	11. TEN

Overwhelmed by my sudden timidness, _Kylo_ had tugged me quickly against his side whilst his arm then slung protectively around my back and in his hold, I felt as if I could sail a storm with practiced ease only if he was my weathered flag and used those warm eyes to clear the murky skies of my awful nerves.

But the skies weren't murky nor dark today as we left the coffee shop, they were still that same crystal blue and had a golden shine to a departing midday sun. Although, in the glow, I felt as if this still must be a dream for I really don't understand how this is truely happening to me again.

How had my Professor, magically have shown up to the cafe on the day that I was slowly losing hope of rebuilding my need for mending my lonely bones with someone who had crushed them before and continued to decay them today when he blatantly stood me up? Was Mr. Ren – _Kylo,_ a night and shining armour to my wonders and sad life? Or beneath that armour of silver, was he exactly like Leo Grey?

There's a little part of me who knows this cannot result in something good. What benefits did the Professor get from me, other than my willingness to please him with the opening of my legs? Nothing. I can't give him anything else in a relationship, and that must be why he keeps glancing to the strangers around us as he leads me down the street – He's insuring that one of those strangers isn't so. He's cautious of the chance of being caught with me, _his student._

Walking down the city street, at any chance he got, he would sneak impatient caresses when he thought that we were in the clear, away from anyone who may recognise the two of us, who were remarkably misplaced this close and together.

His long fingers dance around my waist and occasionally slip back to my lower spine that shivered beneath the thin shirt that I wore, to which his burning touch mended all my fears with the rasping against me, setting my own skin aflame.

I grimace to myself as I am being taken somewhere unknown, this is such a dangerous situation and look at me, I am just allowing him to lead me anywhere as if I was a dog tied to a leash who didn't know any better.

I swallow roughly as we turn around the corner of a main road and slip down a narrower street where cars all line the edges with parking permits or tickets folded beneath their windshield wipers.

Glancing to the older man beside me, Kylo's eyes grow darker with raw possession as he tugs me even closer to his hip as if he wanted me to wrap myself around him instead, and sinking into the buzz inside my brain, sparks zap throughout my system as I want to do nothing other than curl my fingers into the long hair of his or silk my hand up the fabric of his clothes and scrape my fingernails down his back.

Then all of a sudden, he stops his long footing in which I struggled to keep up with and stands before a relatively new car – That's all I could tell about it, other than it was a dark black with tinted windows and looked expensive.

"Is this your car?" I ask stupidly, as he unleashes his hand from me and shoves his hand into his pocket.

Retrieving a set of keys, he only cocks his eyebrow and smirks to me, leaving me stunned and speechless like every other time he would as he simply clicks the unlocked button on it, "Yes." Was all he said as the car beeped and did most of the answering for him.

Then walking around to the drivers side and opening his door, I stand frozen before the passengers side. Snapping my head in every direction of the empty parking strip, I have to blow a harsh breath to calm down the erratic beat of my heart as I quickly understand what is about to happen.

_He really is about to fuck me in his car, isn't he? And I am only going to let him._

In a split second, he must have grown too impatient with my frozen state as through the tinted windows of his sleek car, I watch him lean over the console and open the door from the inside for me. Shaking myself out of my heated daze, I quickly snatch my fingers to the handle on the outside and continue opening it before he thinks that I am narcoleptic or something, from the way I always space out in my own mind because everything he does, _somehow,_ has the power to shock me into a stunned state and stare.

Sinking against the cushy leather seat of his car and dropping my bag to my feet, the skittish anxiety that began to linger in my bones made my arms feel limp and I had to force my mind to turn pleasantly blank upon the intoxication of his gaze that he laid onto me.

He made it easy to shut down my nerves, but at most times, he was the reason they always ran wild, _how peculiar?_

There's a certain, heavy tension between us which is laced with exultation as we sit in total silence, simply staring at each-other with a similar gaze of sensual need. I swallow again to calm the beat of my heart and in this small space, I am certain that he can hear both sounds.

And then, all at once beneath that heavy stare of his, I suck a sharp breath inwards and muster up all my courage before I cower away, and I quickly lean across the console and grasp both sides of his face between my hands, shoving his lips forcefully onto my own.

He moans and groans into my mouth, quickly reacting by clenching his eyes closed and reaching out to me, and within my current, hijacked state of mind, my heart leaps excitedly as my instinct takes over.

In one quick motion, I lap my leg over the gearshifts and console of his car, and straddle him in one fluid motion, my jeans clinging tightly to my legs as I curled my knees on the seat around my Professor. His big and rough hands round my waist once again, holding me in place by sliding beneath my shirt and digging his fingers into my skin. In the slight sucking of pain, I whimper to the testament of his touch as the delirious desire floods my blood and courses my veins as if that is what my heart now runs on.

When he growls to my whimpers and bites my bottom lip, I feel as if he is marking me out and I only shudder at the idea, hoping that the indentation of his teeth bruises my lips.

Though I had never been the one to enjoy feeling as if I was _proprietary_ , I could wear his markings like a golden pin, showcasing it especially to a certain blonde in class – But I never could. This is something that can only remain in secret, even though I want to scream in elation for all of New York to hear.

It's as if his hands could mould around me in the most perfect way, to which I press my own hands to his broad and hard chest, feeling the strong leap of his heartbeat beneath my trembling palms and just when I begin to drag my nails down the fabric of his shirt, he pulls away from the kiss and chuckles a hot breath onto my face.

"Impatient, are you?" He rumbled.

Snapping my eyes from his belt buckle which my hands now try to uncover, I only feel his rough hands then unwrap from my waist and take my own hands off of the leather.

"What?" I ask, perplexed at his sudden removal.

Kylo smirks, his eyes still shining with a burning intensity as I can feel how hard he is below me, "Just wait." He said, like I had asked a question he was just about to explain from his textbook, nudging his head back to the passenger seat and motioning for me to get back into it.

Going stiff, I hold my hands up between us as I still sit upon him, unsure of what to do now. Shaking my head to myself, I curse at my own confidence and stomp on it in my own mind for acting out, despite the fact that this is what I thought he only wanted.

Practically crawling back to the passenger side, I ignore the way he brushed his hand over my back as I did so. Then sitting back in that dreaded silence, I feel as if I am suffocating in my own confusion and sudden, timid nerves which returned the moment he curled his hand over the steering wheel casually and turned the ignition on.

When the radio begins to softly play and his car hums beneath it all, I ask the same thing I had before and silently pray that this time, he answers, "Where are we going to go?"

Maybe, the parking street is still not good enough for him and that he thinks there's still a possibly of a student or fellow teacher walking by? After-all, that coffee shop is quite popular with the students and the city library is only a block away – Maybe, he is just going to find some deserted alleyway to drive down so he can bend me across his backseat? _How romantic._

"You are impatient, aren't you?" He laughs, shaking his head to himself as he begins to drive out of his parking space, reaching across the dashboard as he did so, to scrunch up his parking pass and carelessly throw it to the backseat.

I flush at his words and try to find the right thing to say as my knee begins to bounce, but he only cuts me off, "Was I teasing you, baby?" He charms, glancing over to only then break our gaze as he began to turn onto the busy road.

My heart prickles slightly and I clear my voice before speaking, but it still sounds slightly raspy with need, "Was that your intention?" I asked, ignoring Kylo's own question and replacing the attention back onto him.

He smiles to the road, "I'm not quite sure," He hummed, more so to himself than I, "Is it your intention to always steal the thoughts from my mind and replace them with yourself?"

I almost choke on my own spit.

"P-Pardon?" I stutter, growing a deep shade of scarlet, "N-No." I try to laugh off, but it only falls limp in the air with the mixture of his own.

It was mind-blowing how different he was today. So carefree and charming and yet, when he is on campus, he is so brooding and self-indulgent – _Well, maybe he is always self-indulgent._

Gazing straight ahead, only half-aware of a world outside the claustrophobic comfort of his expensive car, of his hands stroking the wheel, the almost soundless changing of the gears, the pattern of traffic lights... I grow quiet as he does too, still unsure of where he is taking me as he begins to drive over a bridge and out of the city, closer to the suburb where _our_ college is. 

He drives rather erratic, but I can't be the one to judge as I still ride the subway. Gliding by other cars quickly and turning the city of New York into nothing but a carnival blur as if we were on some ride.

His muscles flex in the arm he lays upon the wheel and as I begin to stare out the windows with only a slight worry of being kidnapped, his other hand then curls into my lap, bringing me back to reality.

"Mine." Kylo said and it took everything within me to not just rip out my heart from my thudding chest and chuck it out the window.

"W-What?" I whisper, unsure if I had heard him correctly as his fingers begin to brush the denim of my pants, seemingly scratching for more than just fabric.

He turns to me slowly and I fret for a moment that his gaze will simply stay here instead of the road that he glances back to with that devilish smirk of his, "Mine?" He said again, this time in a lighter tone, "You asked, where will we go? We will go to my place." He finally answered, and with the drop of my heart, it only then soars incredible heights at this revelation.

_He's taking me to his house?!_

I truely must be dreaming now.

But I wasn't, even if his house was the most remarkable home I had ever seen before.

It was a home which sat at the far end of a cul-de-sac court, in a very high-end neighbourhood in which the houses were as grand as his own and clearly loved as even the grass of the lawns were a brilliant green that grew in prosperity.

Two story and painted a crystal white, his house was tucked at the end of a long driveway as bushes and shrubs all curled around its path. The house was large but in a generous way, seeming cozy inside but had enough space to house a dozen children of a happy family – And yet, it seemed as if it was only him who lived there. Not even a dog barked from his backyard.

"You have a wonderful home." I hushed to the man beside me, as I peered out the window whilst he parked the car.

"Thanks." Kylo merely grumbled, as if the home had cursed him with melancholy, and it probably did. Was this the home that him and his Ex-Wife had bought after their marriage? Was it all he was left with after she had gone?

And my stomach twisted, for I could clearly tell that it once had a woman's certain touch to it. I wondered as we walked up the gravelled driveway, did Mr. Ren and his Ex-Wife, paint the home that perfect white, themselves? Did they plant the rose bushes which lined their fence together? Did she and him walk up the patio the way he and I did now?

When Kylo had finally jingled his house key into the lock and twisted the door open, he leans in and presses a lingering kiss to my forehead, holding my chin between his fingers as he does so – And my moral compass begins spinning uncontrollably as if I was forming some iniquity as I stepped into his house whilst he laid his lips so gingerly upon me, as if this was our home and we were more than a secret held between a teacher and a student.

I only sunk further into a guilty pledge or misconduct as he lead me through the hallway of his home, where frames lined the walls but no pictures were enclosed within them – The divorce really must have been recent, but why take the pictures out and not just take down the whole frames?

I began to chew the inside of my cheek as I followed his broad back to wherever he was taking me and nausea fills my stomach and burns the bottom of my throat when I consider the fact that he may take me to the same bed in which him and his Ex-Wife would have laid, but he doesn't mount the stairs that lead to where I would consider the bedrooms to be.

Walking into the kitchen, my limbs began to shake with nerves as I felt so out of place in his home and I was beginning to regret coming, until he flicked his coffee machine on as he leaned against the counter and watched me with his deep eyes.

The rest of his house seemed to be old fashioned, barely any decorations and only containing necessary furniture and for a second whilst I looked around his kitchen and conjoining dining room, I figured this would have been what my Father's house would look like if my Mother grew some courage and divorced him – Taking all of her comforting decors and homey utensils with her.

That pensive and demanding silence lingers over the two of us again, and as the coffee machine grinds and hums loudly in the tension, I fret that he may be regretting bringing me here too.

I'm panicking beneath my calm exterior, wondering, _why the hell,_ he is even making a coffee or why we are standing in his kitchen so defensively as if the only reason he brought me here _wasn't_ to bend me over.

_I just wish he'd get it over and done with alre–_

Kylo's eyes glinted as he forgot about the coffee machine and began to inch closer to me. His expression was vacant, devoid of lust or that burning desire that I had witnessed back in the booth that was tucked into the neatest corner of the coffee shop, earlier today.

My mouth dried up as if somebody had stuffed a bunch of sand inside and I tried not to choke on it as he closed the gap and merely looked me down, I was afraid, but relieved that he might not have changed his mind about this.

If we stopped doing this and forgot about it all, I would have more of a chance to get over whatever this was and move on with my own life, but there was something about my Professor which had made me feel the most vivacious than I have ever felt before – Even when I dated Leo, I never felt as if he longingly lusted after me until his bones ached. But with Kylo? I felt as if he was such a powerful man, with his dark eyes, pursed lips and intimidating stance, and yet, he was risking it all to see me, _his ignorant student_ , writhe beneath him.

But then, Mr. Ren spoke, and all my thoughts were sucked right back out,  
"You are such a timid, little thing, aren't you?" He said as if I was an animal he didn't wish to scare off as he brushed the back of his palm along my left cheek.

His voice was icy and brought several goosebumps along my spine, forcing my legs to quiver as remnants of memories recalled themselves back of him curling that hand behind my ear in the coffee shop as he grew painfully hard.

My eyes fluttered closed to his touch. Lustful memories of his dangerous mouth trailing along the side of my neck, his teeth scraping at my jugular, his long and white fingers leaving souvenirs on my skin.

"Aren't you?" He urged and I instantly snapped back to the present.

Swallowing, I nod and my mouth parts and shakes, to which he brushes a finger along the wet lining of my bottom lip, "Yes." I whisper to his hand.

It's happening – And no longer did I care for the consequences or the inevitable moment where he has to drive me back to my dorm in total silence as we will soon regret this, like I had done every-time for the solid hour after I had allowed him to have his way with me, only to then crave his touch forevermore after that, as if I was some sick, sex-addict.

Kylo's lips never rose into that fateful way he would smirk to me, only giving me that same harsh and brooding stare – And if it wasn't for the way he would always give me that deadly gaze, I may have considered the fact that he truely had brought me here to kill me.

But to no avail, it was only those golden eyes that traveled down my face and to my clenched hands that I held by my sides to try and stop the shaking of my own body, which he then enveloped with his own. The coolness of his skin startled me, yet I only allowed it to seep through to my burning palm as if I was soaking up for the moment that I have waited for.

The Professor then stares back into my insecure eyes as he slowly squeezed my hand and then raised it to sit onto the steady beat of his heart, as if he was taunting me by showing how calm he was, whilst I was being exactly how he had said, timid.

My fingers spread across his chest when he finally lets them go and his muscles vibrated beneath my touch, as finally, the corners of his mouth to curved back into a smirk.

"Admit it." Kylo murmured, his head cautiously dipping down so that our faces were seconds away from closing in the gap.

Cheeks growing red once more, I figured that I should begin wearing a heavy foundation of make-up across my face if I am going to be around him, for all I do is blush, "I'm timid?" I whisper, uncertain of what he was actually asking of me.

He chuckles and I feel the rumble of his laughter as I kept my hand on top of his steady heartbeat, "No – Sweetheart." He cooed, "Admit what I had said before."

Feeling his breath fan my face, it seemed as if my mind had washed blank with the intoxication of his musk and I furrowed my brows slightly at him as he began to wind his arms around my neck, slightly tugging and yanking on my hair, "What did you say before?" I question, hoping that he won't grow angry at my ignorance but instead, maybe punish me like he had done before, _so euphorically._

"You're impatient." He drawled, beginning to slide a hand down my arm and to the hemming of my jeans. I gasped low when his fingers curled beneath the button of my pants and tugged me closer. Now our hips were pressed together and I could feel his lips just brush my own but he breaks the silky touch in a sharp second and only grazes his mouth upon my nose, waiting for an answer before his praise.

I quickly think over to my last thoughts before his movement had broken it and it is startling because it is as if he had read my mind in that moment.

"Yes." I said again, nodding and trying to crane my neck upwards to feel his lips against my own once more, but he still doesn't grant me a kiss.

Lazily flicking his gaze all along my features but never into my craving eyes, he then asks with a raspy and gravelling tone – Which is a flashing beacon to his yearning as he slowly asks, "Yes, what?"

Distinctly flustered as even more heat flared to my cheeks and then to the tips of my ears. There was warmth in the pit of my stomach now, instead of guilt and it seemed like Kylo had silenced the foreboding emotions and demons that always surrounded me wherever I went, as if the emptiness that was inside my heart seemed to level out and only replace it with the very thing it truely needed.

I hoped I affected Mr. Ren in the same way, but I knew that I was pining after something much more demanding than simple sex, in which that was all he longed for.

I knew exactly what he wanted, and like the rest of me, I was prepared to give him everything.

"Yes, Sir." I said, begging to please him and suddenly, when he growled and picked me up and threw me over his shoulder as if I had weighed nothing to his brute strength, a mingling return of my muse had struck me as I whimpered to the sound and the feel of him slapping the back of my thighs whilst he practically leaped up the stairs.

𝙷𝚎'𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚜.

It was a poem by many, and used in countless of novels and forms of poetry and I hadn't thought of that same poem since my Mother had unpinned it from her cork-board wall, exactly three days after she found out about my Father's affair with his assistant.

And although, it was a poem made by many, for many – It seemed to fit Kylo Ren, perfectly.

Skin and bone but being held by incredibly strong arms against a firm chest, I wrap my legs around Mr. Ren's torso, ignoring the way his chest was so broad that it sent shivers down my spine to think that in a matter of seconds, I may just be able to see the flesh beneath his shirt for the first time.

Practically kicking a door open on the second floor, it doesn't take long for Kylo to throw me on the bed as if I was a rag doll but I don't even complain as I take in the view of his bedroom whilst rubbing my fingers along the silken, king-sized mattress.

The room was the same as the rest of the house, simple – And before I can even peek my eyes through the ensuite door, those eyes pull me into his gravity once again as he mounts the bed, his shoes already off as he begins to slip mine off too.

The emotions in his eyes blended into the brown, telling me that he desired nothing more than this moment, or maybe that was what I wanted as I reflected in the rich darkness of his dilated pupils.

Soon enough, Kylo's calculated mouth was parting my trembling lips, sending wild tremors along my bones and nerves, inflicting sensations I had never known someone was capable of feeling. I open my mouth wider, allowing his tongue entry deeper. His vanilla lips imprinting themselves on mine like a footprint in the snow, forging a sense of exoticism and roguery.

I twine my hands over his shoulders, pulling and twisting the material of his shirt with my shaking fingers. He gets the message and soon enough, his shirt is pulled over his head, exposing the tense muscles across his chest, and then thrown onto the floor.

I reverently run my hands across his chest, adoration in my eyes as I bite my lip at the glistening, pale skin above me as I spread my knees open to allow him to tuck closer to me and pepper kisses along my neck.

Swirling, tweaking, brushing over and over, his fingers tease my breasts through the material of my shirt and then kneads the mounds with his palms roughly. I feel raw and excruciatingly empty, almost crazed with a particular yearning that only him can fill, so strong and roughly it is overwhelming.

When he sharply bites a delicate spot between the crook of my neck and collarbone, I cry to his ceiling.

"Kylo." I whimpered and suddenly, his warm mouth was abandoned from my flesh only for his minty breath to fan my face cooly.

His lips are rosier than they have ever been before, but his dark tone is forever the same, "Just because I told you my name, doesn't mean you are allowed to use it, sweetheart."

Then, all at once, he grabs both sides of my shirt and twists the fabric into his fists, only to rip it in half. Gasping loud, I only shudder at the exposure of my bra and forget about the shredded mess of my shirt when his face falls into the narrow parting of my breasts.

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, biting it roughly. My pupils, lust blown and going wide as I hung onto his shoulders, forcing him further into my chest as he began to swirl his tongue on the flesh.

I slipped up in the elation of his touch, "K-" But he had cut me off quickly as he pulled away once again and slapped the top of my breasts, drawing blood to the unbroken surface.

A moan of desperation fell from my lips, raspy from the way I screamed his name like it was a mantra, "Mr. Ren!"

He chuckles low and I fall helpless to the dominating colours of his heavy-lidded gaze, though I am the one to break the tension this time as I lift myself up and kiss him deeply again. My fingers glide down his exposed chest once more, skimming his abdomen until I find his fly and slide it down quickly as if my life depends on what hides beneath it.

He groans into my mouth, hips jerking as I curl my hand around his length that now strains against his briefs, and he throbs in my palms, thick and hot. Then growing confident like I had back in his sleek car, I push him with my other hand and swap our positions – Finally becoming the one to take charge of our sensual affair.

He makes a deep and chesty sound as I thump him onto the mattress and throw my self over his thighs after I had tugged his pants off of his long legs – But staying forever dominant, it doesn't take him long to lean up on one hand and tug me back into a demanding kiss, his tongue fighting my own.

Emboldened, powerful, extremely illicit, his kiss is a savouring taste to my senses. It only spirals me higher and higher as if when I am in his hands, I can soar anywhere in the galaxy. Finally freeing his length from his briefs, he moans at the cold exposure but I only warm him right back up as I caress him with the limited space between him and the apex of my thighs.

After a few moments of watching him throw his head back and groan at the mere touch of my hand wrapped around his long length, Kylo then places his large hand over the curling of my own and very slowly and deliberately, began to assist in the tenacious pumping of himself.

My eyes widened at the sight of him taking charge once more, his calloused hands working expertly over my own at his length, sweeping his thumb over his tip. He was becoming totally disheveled at the fast pace of both of our fists and as he cuts a moan into the air, he stops himself and tears my hand away from his own, only to reposition ourselves back the way we laid before – With me beneath him.

He kneels over me, his face scowling and panting heavy breaths from his sweaty chest. Then grabbing himself back with his hand, my skin forms brittle goosebumps when he smacks his other large hand to my neck and pushes me further into the fluffy pillows.

With my back arching off the bed, he smiles in approval when the grunt of his formal title is caught in my throat beneath his rough touch which could make me dizzy even without the sudden applying of pressure to my airways.

He bit his bottom lip as he pumped himself a little faster, and the one long vein that ran along the underside of his member became more prominent. His lungs ached from breathing heavily but just when he was about to come undone, he immediately withdrew his fist and savoured the euphoria for the inside of me only.

Then retracting his hand from my neck, I sucked a sharp breath inwards only for it to thud right back out of my chest when he unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them off quickly with such expertise which he used to take off my underwear too.

I rolled my hips, my core aching for only him.

"So impatient, aren't you?" He growled again, but he didn't give me any time to respond, for the next thing I knew, his fingers had curled into me without warning. It took everything I had left, which wasn't much, not to move or cry out as his fingers assaulted me magically.

Kylo withdrew his fingers and was on me again in a flash, slick-fingered hand on my throat and squeezing roughly as if he had never stopped choking me, "Aren't you?!" He urged for the second time today.

With my airway obstructed, I used what little breath I had left to answer to his command,

"Yes... Sir."

Hand still on my throat, he kissed me savagely, drawing more blood from the cut my teeth had now definitely made. Then pulling away, we both couldn't wait anymore and he looked up at me, smirking as I only latched onto him further.

My whole body shook with anticipation, but I forced herself not to grind against him to bare myself the punishment of him calling me impatient once more.

He flexed his fingers around my neck and rests between my legs, pushing the head of his length against me tauntingly to which I whimpered at and regretfully bucked into it.

Mr. Ren removes his hand from around my neck and gropes one of my breasts, which is still hidden by my bra but he didn't seem to care as he sneered, "Such a naughty girl."

I lick my lip softly at his words, tasting the metallic of my own blood as I tremble and sweat in this torture. He only continues with his rough and gravelling tone, "Look at you. Such a needy mess for me – your Professor."

It was so wrong when he openly said it that way – But it only made me more intoxicated by him so completely, as if he was some illegal drug that was hard to find and I was a relapsing drug addict.

I nod weakly to his voice and whine, but once again, that will never be enough for him.

He spits onto my breasts and shouts, "Tell me you're a bad girl!"

Kylo then twines his hands around my hips and bucks over my delicates in my silence and when he groans, I decide to play along and give it back to him.

"I'm not a naughty girl." I whisper beneath him, to which he narrows his eyes onto me and grabbed my breast that became slick with his own saliva, squeezing the soft flesh roughly, grinding the heel of his hand into my nipple which had popped out of the cupping of my bra.

"You're not?" He asked in that same tone he would use in class if a student was protesting to his teaching style. With vice-like fingers, he pinched my skin and sent a jolt of pain mixed with pleasure down my spine.

"Sweetheart, I might have to disagree." He chuckled at my twisting face.

Mr. Ren then swept his thumb over the hollow of my throat, feeling my heart race beneath his fingers before giving a quick squeeze for good measure again, only to retract it back to my hip.

I initially gasped at the lack of oxygen and he smiled at the flicker of helplessness in my eyes, but when the air was sucked back into my lungs, I shook my head and smiled groggily to the older man above me.

"I-I'm not a bad girl, S-Sir." I chimed into the sexual tension.

Mr. Ren cocked his brow up, his length still held up to my core, "No?" He belittled and I shook my head once more,

"No," I repeated his own words, then giving him a lustful gaze as I licked my lips before continuing, "But, I'd do bad things with you."

My throat clogs and I croak a broken moan when he thrusts up and into me, whilst gliding circles on my hips with his hands until he can't take anymore and forcefully grips onto the bones. 

I want to either scream to the heavens or sob as he finally and aggressively fills me, my body turning into a tight coil around his large length, setting me to unravel beneath him as the blood roars in my ears.

Soon enough, I began to quiver and quake beneath him and around him. I whimper and he groans, his hands clamping even tighter onto me. I can feel the thump of his heart upon my own chest this close and held under rigid control, I sink my forehead to rest on his broad shoulder as my fingers scrape down his back and cling onto him in the power of these unsteady and quick thrust he belts into me.

He pistoled his thrusts harder, using his grip on my hips for leverage, slamming against me until his eyes began to roll to the back his head. Everything soon turns into one big blur until he unravels over me and my own sight turns into a spinning spiral of sensation.

It takes a long moment until we both feel like we can breathe again and as he pulls out, the rest of his body falls limp as he curls me into his chest and wraps his arms around my back, holding me against his chest as he slumps into the mattress.

With our breathing heavy, his warmth sends me into a heady trance, one that doesn't end until our bodies are still once more with the occasional twitch. I let my head rest upon his chest and listen to every thud of my Professor's heart.

All my thoughts stopped as if my heart took over from my mind when we were this close but then Mr. Ren squeezed me tight, as if he needed to check I was really there with him, really there and really real.

"Sorry about your shirt," He whispers, as if it is a soft confession to bely the raging storm of secrecy that will eventually sweep us both away.

I laugh into his chest, my cheeks burning and sore and at the sound of my airy laughter, he chuckles too.

"I really am sorry." He hummed and I turned my head up to finally gaze back to him. We lock eyes for just a moment, just enough for me to immediately feel safe beneath that stare. He's delicate in this moment, though his flame of cursing mystery burned in the brown around his pupils.

"It's okay." I simply uttered.

He nudges his head to the corner of the room and chuckles, "You can go get one of mine out of my closet."

My heart drops momentarily. Was he already hinting at me leaving? After-all, I can't run across campus to my dorm with no shirt on, so does his words hint that he simply only wanted to come undone and then take me back?

Despite the cruel return of my anxiety, I meekly smile at him and nod, untangling myself from his hands and curling my toes into his carpet as my feet meet the ground.

I sway for a while when I finally stand, my body aching and screaming for me to return to his chest, but I simply ignore all of my burning and sizzling needs as I instead, just pull back on my underwear and tip-toe to his walk in closet that was tucked to the side of his ensuite door.

"So much for pillow-talk." I whisper to myself as I flick the light of his closet on and walk in.

Rows and rows of dark tees and drawers filled with pants and other forms of clothing, his closet was nothing like the rest of his house as it was incredibly full and as I gingerly run my hands along the soft fabrics of his shirts, I sigh to myself in bliss for the small space of his closet shines an epiphany onto me as it smells strongly of him.

I bite the indentation of my sore bottom lip as I swipe my hands through the hangers of dark shirts, for they were all the same intensity as him and his brooding soul, but as I swipe to the last hanger, my jaw drops and so does my heart.

For the last hanging item, certainly wasn't black, but brown – The same type of brown as his eyes, with a fluffy interlining of white at the collar.

It wasn't a shirt that I tore off the hanger in the silence of his closet as my heart began to beat incredibly loud, but rather it was a jacket.

_It was my jacket._


	12. ELEVEN

It was a faux staple that had been in my own closet since high-school and as I rub the brown of the denim, which had slowly faded to a beige, between my fingers, the shearling deets of the fabric was enough to run a shiver down my spine, but when his face perched into the crook of my neck, peppering more kisses onto the bruised skin beneath the dim light of his walk-in-closet, I shuddered.

My mouth was incredibly dry to say his tongue was only minutes ago, the only thing I wished to drink but as I furrowed my brows to my jacket, which I had plucked from a hanger from my Professor's closet, I grew stiff with nerves which returned at the realisation that he must have taken it that day I left it in class.

I'm standing only in my underwear and I can feel the material of his own clothes against my back as he only, casually, hums at the belonging in my tender hands, and despite the gut wrenching ache at the fact that Kylo had already gotten dressed again, the only thing I could fret about was my jacket, which he shouldn't have in his, _considerably,_ empty home – Let alone have taken it and not have told me later, especially when my name is written awfully on the tag.

"Is this my jacket?" I whisper to the tall man behind me, who began to rub his palms on my bare shoulders, where only black straps sat next to the splotches of reds and purples which his own teeth and lips had abused to such violet perfections.

I didn't need to ask him though, for when I did check the tag, I wasn't surprised to see my name etched with the same pink marker that I would always use to title my notebooks in high school.

"Yes." He breathed into my neck, forging a wave of goosebumps to prickle along my flesh. 

Still staring at my loose jacket held in my limping arms, my heart cried in agony for nothing in the past few weeks has made any sense – I feel as if when I am finally shrinking back comfortably, life begins to tug and stretch me thin with reasons that I can't even resolve. 

My eyebrows furrow and I stay potently still as his rough hands begin to glide up and down my waist once more, "Oh," I uttered, still in an unwavering state of surprise "And why do you have it, S-Sir?"

He nips my shoulder bone softly with his sharp teeth and my blood floods cold beneath the feeling, only to warm up to the demanding tone of his nonchalant answer.

"Because." He shrugged, clearly not interested enough to explain something so peculiar. 

I turn out of his grip and stare up at him, only sucking a sharp breath in at the snap of my skin out of his mouth to remain strong against his mysterious demeanour, despite how vulnerable I truely look, basically naked to his now, covered body.

Mr. Ren looks down at me and in the glimmer of his eyes, I think for a moment that the tugging of the corner of his mouth is because through the looking glass of those deadly browns, he is reminded of the way I writhed beneath him only moments ago. 

I casually hold my jacket over my padded bra and torso, cursing to the heavens that the fabric isn't long enough to cover my lower half, which my knees wobble below the colour of my unmatched underwear. 

"Because, why?" I retort, ignoring the swirl of mischief in the older man's eyes as he cherishes the hot marks on my flesh.

Snapping his gaze away, Kylo's face suddenly contorts and he sighs a tired breath as if I was becoming a nuisance. Then rolling those once, lustful browns into white, his true malevolent presence which he often kept at bay, began to slither and claw at every fabric of my being, not just my skin now, as his scoff was enough to make my nerves turn into long, lost fear. 

"Do you ever stop asking questions?" He scowled, the same way he had when I was standing before his desk as he began to read through my plagiarised poem.

Anger is quick to burn up my system, fleeting out in millions of furious little cells that are tearing apart the dwindle of regret that also begins to soar and seep into my bones, in attempts to protect my own conviction. 

_Of course!_ Of course, this is what was bound to happen – What's even better than bending your student over your desk? Folding her legs around your waist in your own bed. But what after that? There doesn't get much better, and that's exactly where this leaves me. 

Mr. Ren doesn't care for me, he just wants me out of his house now that he has used me to the full extent. 

I scoff and roll my eyes, still keeping my belonging held close to my vulnerable and completely ignorant frame which I had so easily allowed him to possess, once again. 

"Well, I must admit that it is a bit strange to find my jacket in my Professor's closet." I scowl, just as much as he did – But suddenly, his face shifts and relapses into that familiar, sarcastic chuckle of his. 

He shakes his head so apathetically and it is demoralising to think about how perfect and charming his grin is as he meets my gaze and says, "And I must admit is is a bit unusual to see my student naked in, _said_ _closet."_

My face falls and if I could let go of my jacket, I would churn my fingers into tight and nervous fists by my sides,

"You brought me here!" I exclaim, completely baffled. 

Suddenly, Kylo takes a step closer to me in the small confining of his closet, near closing the tension between us as I feel his hot breath fan my face. Once again, his hand etches its way over and makes a home by slithering beneath the covering of my jacket and holds onto my waist. 

Even before his palm had met my skin that laid beneath cloth, his fingertips were enough to make my lungs expand with briny air. With the grip of his soft hand, came electric tingles with the desire to play and nausea began to claw at my throat. It took everything in me to force down the bile.

"Yes, I did." He said with a straight face and a brisk nod, his eyes searching through the wonders of my own before he continued, "– Which I don't regret, and neither do I regret taking your coat."

He saw the shock register on my face before I could even attempt to hide it and a small smile played on his rosy and previously abused, lips. I am left feeling so incredibly confused by his words – I feel lost and confused, longing to figure him out, but his smile taunted me, as if he was proud of himself for derailing my annoyance.

"Right." I tutted, rolling my eyes and ignoring the way he began to pinch my hip, "And you don't regret taking it, why?"

His eyes are so captivating in their brooding depth and even in this artificial lighting, I could be pulled into his gravity if it weren't for his malice and egotism that weighed like an anchor. 

"Your impatience was charming at the beginning, but now it is unnerving." He sighs, the smirk he once held, falling back down into a pursed line at my refusal to play as his fingers performed ballet on my naked flesh.

My skin tingles where he touches me and my heart beats erratically in my chest so hard that I think it might fly out. But still, I remain defensive, moving away from his hand and holding my jacket tighter to my chest as I snap,

"Then, take me home!" 

Scoffing, he practically brushed me away with a big swipe of his hand through the air, "I will."

Shaking my head, I bite my last word through my teeth, demanding, "Now!"

Then letting out a groan of exasperation, I pushed myself out of the corner he had tried to pin me into and trudge past my insolent Professor to make my way over to the mess of my clothes that he had _torn_ off my body.

My shirt was in shreds but my jeans were completely fine, although crumpled above my forgotten shoes which he had peeled so passionately and eagerly off of my feet before I had made my way up to the head of his bed, where now, the duvets and blankets were all a twisted and crinkled mess on account to the twisting of our lustful limbs.

Slipping my jacket on first after rolling my eyes to the torn shirt, I button the fabric all the way to the top and the silver of the backing to the buttons is cold against my flesh, which the blood scorches above the boiling of itself.

Kylo uses his long legs to an advantage, practically running out of the closet and over to me to pull onto my arm, just as I was grabbing my jeans from the floor. Too surprised to resist, he then twisted me into his hold, turning me around to face him and his furrowed brows. 

Mr. Ren then lifted his free hand and cupped my face as his eyes roamed all over my disgruntled features, his expression was like he was looking for something and yet, I would never be able to find out what he needed, in the midst of all of his enigma. 

I found the closeness between us, difficult to fight the urge to rip his clothes off, which was definitely never going to happen again, not after this. 

"Wait." He said softly, stabbing my chest sharply with the stark difference to what was said in the confining of his closet.

"Why –"

Without warning, he let go of my hands and then, Professor Ren's mouth crashed onto mine again as if he had forgotten the taste of my lips and needed more. I gasped in surprise, my jeans falling to the floor to pool at our feet and he took the moment to slip his tongue in for that missing taste. 

I tried to resist at first, using my hands to push against the strength of his hard chest, but the way his tongue played with mine, caused me to relent, to which, the rubble of my previously crumbled defences, only caught on fire in the war zone.

I swore I would not show any further signs, I cursed that I wouldn't let him use me again, but look at me, I am like a messy ball of tangled yarn and he is my needle, looping me into his silver ways and directing me to go anywhere he wishes. 

I tried to squirm and limply still tried to push him away, but Mr. Ren only won this battle and grabbed both of my wrists which sat upon his chest and twisted them together by using only one of his large hands and then pushed against me and left me to fall against the wall by his bed. 

When my back came in contact with the surface, Kylo only chuckled into my mouth and took my wrists and pinned them over my head, leaving me to whimper at the burn of my twisted skin.

His kisses moved down the side of my jaw, running delicately along the tensing and the column of my strained neck, which must have bruises the shape of fingerprints. And with the heat of his mouth retuning to me like the sun returns to the night to warm the land right up, his heat wavers a sense of welcoming, sending more shivers throughout my body but this time, I relapsed in the sensation. 

Then using his free hand to tip-toe along the soft flesh of my inner thigh, he began to taunt my core through the thin material of my underwear, which slowly soaked to his touch, becoming a traitor to my shameless strength.

I curled my fingers and sunk my nails into the back of his hand that held my arms violently above my head, to which he growled at but did not attempt to release me at the sense of his breaking flesh.

My body seemed to betray me as it arched towards him like it had on the mattress as my pelvis tried to meet the clothed one of his, all but begging for every kiss he gave so passionately but his tongue tasted of domination, as if he never truely desired for me to be anything but his toy. 

I tried to free myself from him once more, curling my fingers into fists and thrashing my arms around, but his brute did not release until I bite down harshly at his bottom lip, causing him to curse into my mouth as he only shoved his tongue further down my throat whilst his fingers lost their grip. 

Then refusing to kiss him back, he finally pulled his lips away from my own.

With only the sounds of our heavy breathing, we stare at each-other, our eyes cursing for many things that will remain behind both of our glass windows, which seems as if we will never crack open for one another. 

I hear him swallow roughly, his hand now grazing away from my underwear and falling limp by my thigh.

"I took it because..." He began, with the furrowing of his thick eyebrows as his tongue darted out to capture the last remnant of my taste upon his wet lip, before continuing.

Mr. Ren looked lost for a second. His eyes darted back and forth from one eye of mine and to the other, like he was thinking. 

"Because you have seemed to captured me in a way that I cannot seem to explain." He said. 

Taken aback, my eyes widen and I rest my head against the wall, obviously uncertain for what is to come as my heart unwillingly, does flips behind its cage of bone. 

"I–"

He cuts me off, this time not by his forceful kiss but by his gentler words, which are uncommon from his exiled soul, "There's something about you which is so enchanting and yet, I do not know what exactly it is and the unknown is only what brings me to you so dangerously."

It's like he is speaking all of my emotions and thoughts so perfectly, as if I had written them down in a poem only for him to this time, plagiarise. 

"Dangerously?" I ask in a coarse whisper, the tension of the room, falling so limp that it shatters around our frames. 

What was there to fear about me? I am not dangerous, at least, not as dangerous as he was. 

Mr. Ren raises his hand to my cheek once more and just as I assume that he is about to pull me in for another attack of his lips, he simply pats the side of my face as if he was trying to tap some sense into me as a familiar smirk rose on the corner of his handsome face.

"Think about it, sweetheart." He chimed, his eyes, much lighter now, "What would happen if someone found out that fifteen minutes ago, you were being fucked by me in my own home?"

His words bring a sudden sense of, _dangerous,_ reality.

"I would get expelled." I answer, as if he had asked something at the front of the classroom and I was the first to raise my hand.

He nods, "Yes, and I would get fired."

Deep down, I knew what Kylo was saying was a pretty valid argument. And the hesitation in his eyes proved that he didn't want to say it, as much as I didn't want to hear the consequences. But I was too agitated and hurt to care much about how my Professor felt or was feeling, there was still an uncertainty regarding the jacket which I now wore. 

"So, what then?" I shake my head and furrow my eyebrows, confused as to where this was heading, when in-fact, he was the one who had brought me here so magically, "We just act like nothing happened?"

He masks my expression, his lips forming into a straight line once more but this time I do not fear the words to come afterwards, whilst his fingers begin to work their way through my hair, curling the crazy strands behind my ears, 

"No. I don't want to, I initially tried and it was too difficult to not even imagine your pretty little mouth all throughout the lesson, especially when you suck on your blue pen in concentration."

A fire burns in the flood of my chest. I recall the first couple of lessons with the mysterious, Mr. Ren and how he had pointed out the blue ink on my trembling bottom lip. Had he been longing after me since that moment?

"Now, tell me..." He continued in the midst of my wild silence, "Did you enjoy yourself, baby?"

"W-What?"

He grins to my negligence as I was too busy stuck in my own head, once again, even though my dream, _himself,_ was right in front of me.

Kylo cocks his head to the side, his raven hair brushing against his broad shoulders and cotton shirt, which I wish was as removed as my lower half.

He licks his lips once more and I become captured by the gleam upon the rose, "Did you enjoy me fucking you?"

My mouth goes painfully dry and yet, I still choke on my spit. 

"Yes..." I nod, too quickly to be true as I briefly forgot about the happenstance in the little closet, then noticing the narrowing of his dark eyes, "Sir."

He hums, his cocky smile widening a bit more to the point where it may become my new reasoning for a sleepless night, for I will fret that once asleep, I will forget about the way his freckles moved around the grin so charmingly. They were like baring stars around the suns of his eyes. Constellations to a perfect canvass. 

"Then, let's keep enjoying ourselves, but let's also keep this as our little secret." He uttered, then twining his hand behind my neck and pulling me closer. 

I already knew that what was between us, would forever stay between us. And although, it slightly and stupidly, hurt that the gorgeous man and I's relationship could never go any further than illicit, I still nodded like a fool, "Of course."

His hand falls from my neck and I release a sharp breath which I didn't realise that I was holding as he changes his fingers to the bottom hemming of my jacket, which I still wore with no answers as to why it was hanging in his closet, but I imagined that answers were coming soon from the way he twined the fabric so smoothly.

"And the jacket..." He hummed, eyes then bordering back into the gloss of my own, "I took it because even though you were driving me mad in the midst of me trying to keep away, I still relapsed and needed something of yours to keep as a... Subdue."

I laugh.

"A subdue?" I brisk away the tension, smiling to the demanding man above me.

He nods, "Yes, sweetheart."

Then feeling comfortable, I raise my arms and rest them on his shoulders as my fingers pinch the nape of his long and dark hair, ignoring the burn in my muscles as I do so.

"Well, I hope you're all... _Subdued up,_ because I'm taking this home." I chime, referring to my jacket as I then snapped my arms back down and side-stepped away from him to return back to the mess of my jeans on his carpet. 

"No, you're not." Kylo spoke from behind me, his Professor voice sneaking back into his tone. 

I pick up my pants, acting innocent but ignoring his words as I bend my rear in his direction, putting on a show only to feel him pull me back up right from the waist and turn me back to his deep and demanding gaze.

"W–"

"You're not taking it." He whispered like a prayer and his hands cradled my hips like a precious statue of marble between his grip. His mouth covered mine again, now with confidence that I wasn't going to vanish and neither was he. 

Then pulling away, Kylo said, "Not without leaving something else first."

It's uncomfortable on the ride back to my dorms, and not because of him, but because jeans are not meant to be worn without underwear. 

Constantly readjusting in the passengers seat as the car cut through the dead roads of the night, I made the mistake of looking to my right. 

Kylo was watching me, a smirk on his face and when he noticed my crimson cheeks and eyes briefly glance at him, his smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. 

His brown eyes twinkled in mischief before he then tore his gaze away and turned it casually back to the road. 

And when he finally pulled his car to the side of the curb by the back entry of the college, where it looked as if it was a ghost-town, only the slight crack of him using his gear-shift was enough to relapse the quick thud of my heart as I sat for a few seconds beside him, trying to find the right words to say but there was no time to spare, for if we were caught – Well, we both knew the consequences now. 

He turns off his headlights, just to refrain from any unwanted attention if there were any and as we say our awkward goodbyes, the man who taught my Literature class had returned, for Kylo turned all professional again as we waved meekly to each-other, just as I climbed out of the crisp leather seats of his sleek car.

A breeze rushes onto my flesh as if it has always waited to thrust its coolness onto my frame and I flinch with its chilly force whilst clenching onto my jacket's top button tightly. Then turning to close his car door softly, he calls out into the night's silence, seemingly forgetting about secrecy.

"Sweetheart?"

With shaky breaths, I lean back into the car and look at him once more. He stares back, his lips twitching in uncertainty only to then rise into a smirk, which on top of the pink, a flawless beauty that I believed he shined, glazed even with an order of darkness overbearing his authority.

"Yes, Sir?"

Kylo unclips his seatbelt and leans across the console and to the passenger side, to which I lean in further to meet him halfway. 

At first it was tentative, barely a brush. But when no ghosts of watcher's eyes showed themselves, and the night's breeze stayed in its usual configuration, our lips joined again, with more pressure and certainty. A taste, to discover what was different, only to discover nothing was. 

I could sense the secrecy stinging beneath his tongue, but the pain was worth it all along. 

It should have seemed strange how familiar he felt, when it had been such a resisting temptation to fall into his arms since the start, but when my hands cradled his face, Mr. Ren inhaled sharply, tensing and shuddering into our kiss.

The hallway of the dorms were an empty, gaping, white mouth with several, locked doors all aligning the sides. It was quiet tonight and it is unnerving to think about how much time had flown by when I was at my Professor's house, twined in his bed, yelling in his closet and then confessing our oath of secrecy.

The light above, flickered ever so slowly, which no one would notice unless they were paying attention. My shoes tap on the floors, a yellow sign in the distance reflecting in the glossy tiles, making the scene of the dormitories looking just like what I had considered the campus to be before, a ghost-town. 

And with what seemed like an eternity later, I stopped in front of my door, cursing to return to such a small room when I had just come from such a grand home, where moans echoed through those halls instead of stolen silence. 

Then reaching my hand for my backpack strap to retrieve my key, my abandonment became intense, my mind slipping away to try and disassociate from the body of an incredible idiot – Who had left both her underwear and unknowingly, her bag, with her Professor who seemed to have a habit of stealing possessions.

I groan behind closed lips and turn my fingers into fists by my sides. Then turning around and storming into the opposite direction, I try to refrain from breaking the peaceful silence of the hallway with my infuriated scream, as I made my way to my Father's office. 


	13. TWELVE

I'm glaring at the receptionist, my legs tightly clasped together to try and scratch away the vulnerable feeling of not wearing any underwear beneath the coarse material of my jeans. Folding my arms over my chest after readjusting my hair over my neck to hide the creeping splotches of purples and reds that mark my skin, I sit in the silent entry-way outside my Father's office.

It's unbelievable that I even have to wait on this hard and uncomfortable chair, it is demeaning that I have to listen to the unbearable taps of his assistant's nails on her keyboard behind the reception table. 

I scowl when her eyes are too focussed on the gentle glow of her computer screen. Was she the woman my Father had an affair with? I would never know. All my Mother and I knew, was that the reasoning behind him staying late every-night, all those years ago, was because he was secretly bending an assistant over his desk and I grimace when all I can think about is the way Mr. Ren had done the _exact same_ thing to me on the _exact same_ campus.

I wonder what my seventeen year old self would have thought about this whole situation? If I had the power to turn back time and go to tell the old me as she cried on the doorstep of her own home, dressed in a silk prom dress that was bought with three months saving from cheques given after working at a stingy ice-cream shop, she probably would have burst down into more tears than what already cascaded down the mascara-ruined, face. 

I remember that night as if it was yesterday. After stumbling out of the hot celebratory hall, my prom dress of rose-pink, already stained with the droplets of the laced punchbowl, I recall the way the brisk air hit my face and immediately, somehow, sobered me up enough – As if it knew what was coming to my childish unknowing. 

Leo was in the backseat of his own car, which used to drive me home everyday, and one of the more popular girls was wrapped in his arms, whilst their lips and tongues were at play in each-other's mouths. I can't even recall how I got home though, did Percy drive me or did I run home in my prom dress with a hazy vision through all my crying sobs and tears?

Around that time, I had suspected that my Father was having an affair and my Mother already knew, and that they both just wouldn't tell me the truth, but when I crashed into my lonesome Mother's arms and explained what had happened, she told me the truth of my Father's illicit affairs too and we both cried until eventually, our own tears were becoming too much to sympathise so we parted ways to sorrow in our own heartbreak. 

The front porch stairs is where I ended up that night and many hours later, when my Father's car finally drove up the driveway at the late hour of early morning, _3AM to be exact_ – I rustled my dress together and laid my limp punches on his chest to show the pain he had caused in breaking our family apart, only using the force of my useless blows to mask the real hurt of Leo's burden. 

"Harvey will see you now." The secretary's pitchy voice cut through my daze, pulling me strongly back into my place. My stomach churned at the way she used his first name instead of a title. She could have just let it slip, for she knew her boss was my Father, but that didn't stop me from biting my tongue when I assumed that it was because she indeed was, the one who had torn my family to shreds. 

Hair of gold and dark, blue eyes, even her smile is perfect to the rest of her undeniable beauty. My own Mother could never compare and by the way she carries herself so comfortably and confidently, my heart tugs painfully on the idea of my Mother back home, wrapped tightly in the blankets of my childhood room, wondering where her life had initially gone wrong and why her talents of being an acclaimed writer, had fled along with it.

The woman's got a picture of a fresh baby on her desk, wrapped in a scarlet frame to match my boiling blood at the fact that she had ruined what was left of my family, and yet she most likely has a loving household back at her own home, where like my life now, she holds her flames of secrecy to keep them from catching alight her surroundings – That is, _if she indeed is,_ the woman my Father had an affair with. 

Despite my inner clashing of emotions, I smile to the woman and nod, picking my tired body off of the chair and twisting the knob of the office door open swiftly, before I start accusing the blonde woman of something, she might not have even done.

Some people may find walking into the ever-present interrogation setting of a Chancellor's office, intimidating – But upon the sight of the sleazy, balding man behind such a grand oakwood desk, I merely roll my eyes and shut the door behind me, to which my Father raises his head to my appearance.

He furrows his light brows for a moment, confusion evident on his face until it twists to a bright smile, reminding me of the way he would look down to me as I clung onto his hand when I was little. 

"Oh," He shakes his head, chuckling to himself as I sit on the plush chair in-front of his desk, keeping my jacket buttoned tightly to my naked flesh beneath it, "Hi, sweetheart."

In that very moment, the once, not-so-intimidating office room, turned like a whirlpool in my mind as if I was spinning. The brightness of his words engulfs the frail light of the lamp which sits on his desk, somehow diminishing all of the warmth from my body as my face slightly falls to the pet-name. 

It didn't sound as enchanting as when Kylo would coo it onto my frozen skin. It only struck me with a faithless hoax of love, which made my stomach churn once more, this time with enough power to allow the bile to rise to the bottom of my throat.

I swallow that acidic lump down, "Dad." I deadpan, not putting any warmth into my own words.

My Father hardly reacts to my coldness, only sighing slightly and running a hand through his balding hair. He had always been particular with his hair, cherishing it as if it was his biggest fear to lose it and when the strands of blonde began to thin and pull away from his creasing forehead, I smirked to fate who had decided his punishment for his sins. 

He closes the screen of his laptop and clears his throat whilst adjusting his crisp tie, "What–" He began, cutting himself off halfway only to replace it with words much more professional, even though I was his daughter, "How can I help you?"

His voice is sincere, to which it makes me uncomfortable and he can clearly notice the way I rolled my eyes to his own diverted ones. My Father only looked to me when he spoke, adverting his gaze away whenever it was my turn to answer, which was usually phrases of despise. 

If it wasn't for his Chancellor position, I would have assumed the balding man to be incompetent, by the way he would only glance in seconds and the rest of his face was a void of many emotions; Leaving his bland greetings and questions to form irritation of the way he had always tried to act like nothing had happened that day I punched his chest in – Even though he kept the picture on his desk of a cheery me, dressed in that same pastel pink dress with a corsage on one wrist and the other looped into the cropped out arm of Leo's. 

I raise my hand up to the top button of my jacket, ensuring that it is still tightly clasped and he couldn't see the bruised flesh underneath, given by one of his employees, "I've lost my dorm key." I muttered, a certain blemish forming on my cheeks as I now, adverted my own gaze to control my own emotions as I didn't wish to look pathetic in-front of him, when he constantly ran on power-trips, my obvious weaknesses often pleasing him. 

He cocks a brow up and sighs heavily, using his feet to push his desk chair back as he already knew what was to come, "Again?"

After many years, my constant disobeying nature towards the man, began to strike a nerve in such a damaging way and to protect itself, his irritable vitality began to numb until nothing I did ever surprised him. 

I am certain that if I had any siblings, I would be his disappointment of them all.

"Yes." I nod, eyes flickering sternly to the photo upon his desk. 

Shame was evident on my face, a look of humiliation and apology despite my true lack of care for the man who had raised me until I began to push his nurturing hands away. I just wanted his master-key that sat at the bottom of his desk drawer, not his scolding. 

"Christ. Sweetheart, you can't jus–" 

I cut him off before he can even continue. 

"I just need you to open my dorm door, I only left it in Percy's car so I'll get the key back tomorrow." I blurt out my lie, the crimson of my cheeks burning ever-so-slightly at my own deceit. If only he knew where my dorm key and bag actually was. 

How would he react? Most definitely, he would use it to his high advantage, finally having a reason to slip out from beneath the scolding and the terrible blame, only to then push me beneath its weight and torture me for my own wrong-doings as I had done to him since that night after my prom. 

He furrows his brows, the rest of his wrinkling face beginning to follow suit as he bites his tongue to my interject and then leans down to his bottom drawer, retrieving the master-key which dangles from an old lanyard that had the logo of the college labelled on the sides. 

"Alright, but this is the last time." He gives in, just like he had the first time I had actually lost the first dorm key – I think I had accidentally thrown it in the bin on my lunch-break.

Biting my bottom lip to suppress my triumphant smile to reward my victory over the man, I stand from my seat when he rises out of his chair and groans at a certain cramp in his neck. 

Then walking awkwardly, side-by-side to his office door, he wraps the lanyard around his neck as if he is tying it to him so I can't just take it and run, as if I would ever do that. 

My Father has a stoic expression on his displeased face, obviously caught up in his own mind, the same way I often do too. But just when his hand is about to turn the brass knob of his door open, the receptionist still typing away on her own desk through the slits of the blue blinds that rattle against the window of the door, he instead then points his other hand into my face, his expression shifting into one of authority. 

"You need to be more responsible with where you place things." He says, then opening the door and walking through the entry-way to reception, leaving me lingering behind as if I was a troubled student of his.

I roll my eyes and mutter beneath my breath, before turning and giving his assistant a fake smile which was misplaced beneath the glaring of my hateful eyes.

_"That makes two of us."_

He doesn't hear my raucous mumbling though – Or perhaps he did, but was just too vain and conceited about his own, slowly falling, jurisdiction to answer.

We walk in total silence to my dormitory, and I couldn't tell if either of us were comfortable by the tension between us, or found it so smothering by a certain sense of awkwardness or unknowing, that we both listened only to the sounds of our shoes tapping on the freshly-cleaned floors, for something to say.

I take a second to glance to my Father beside me. He doesn't look anything like me, for I had seemed to get all of my traits from my Mother – That is, if I continue to not acknowledge our shared _passion_ for brisk attempts at keeping affairs secretive, and I only hoped that what was happening between Mr. Ren and I, would stay classified, unlike his attempt with his secretary. 

He tried his best to keep a serious gaze for himself, knowing that I would enjoy every moment of his faltering as his crisp suit is only a shield to my attacks. I didn't care if he was Chancellor of my college, he was my pathetic Father first, even if I cannot remember a time without him working on campus. 

On nights like these, the dorms are always quiet and even if there was a happenstance that erupted and broke the silence, the Professor's that would stay behind or the student body on duty, always tended to avoid giving out referrals to my Father's office, for even if he was intimidated by my harsh words, that didn't mean the Chancellor kept his own refrained from everyone else. 

He was strict since the moment he had grudgingly agreed to accept the position of Chancellor. My Mother had told me once that whoever had given him the role, had basically begged him to accept, for no other Professor was intimidating or formidable enough to keep the campus running on the prestigious level that it was already on.

"So... How's your course?" He finally broke the silence, _and my daze._

The lights still slightly flicker above the hallway that leads to my room, but he doesn't seem to care enough to wish to reach into his own pocket and pull out the money to fix it. 

"Fine." I shrug, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans, slightly pulling the inner lining away from my bare delicates that are beginning to grow more and more uncomfortable by the scratchy fabric.

I wonder for a second, what Mr. Ren was intending to do with my underwear that I had left him? But I quickly shake the thought away before a smile etches its way to my cheeks of bright scarlet. 

"Fine?" He asks, flinching his head and raising his brows as if he was taken aback from my nonchalant answer. 

I swipe my tongue over my teeth and glare to my shoes, "Yep." I chime, popping the last letter loudly and childishly.

Disbelieving, my Father's eyes flicked to the side of my face and he made a _tsk_ sound through his teeth. I can tell that every-time he looks at me, he thinks of that night on the front porch, the encounter clinging onto him with ferocity, of me fiercely arguing for the demolishing of my Mother's kind spirit, crying tears over her near demise.

But he always ignored those stealthy and persistent reminders, just like he did now as he grumbled and said, " _Fine,_ doesn't seem to be the case."

My eyes widen and I bury them straight ahead to the distant door that is locked to my room. Flashes of my own recollections soar through my mind, flicking over like my Mother would snap through the pages of her favourite novels. 

Mr. Ren was in every single one of them and as my heart began to thud loudly in my chest, I worried that somehow, my Father knew about the secret bond between my new Literature Professor and I.

I swallow slowly, "What do you mean?" I practically force out before my knees give out and leave me crashing to the floor to beg for forgiveness and plead for him to not kick me out of his campus.

"You're failing." He simply said, and even though the weight lifted off of my shoulders immediately, it only came crumbling back down so savagely, "And not just by a little, but by a lot."

I knew the day of his reprimand was bound to come soon. It was evident that I was flunking Literature, even if I was sleeping with the teacher.

"Oh – Well, it's hard to keep up with the new Professor..." I drawl, my words even seeming to lack as much confidence as my timid shoulders did as they dropped, "– You know, after Mr. Roy's, quick departure."

I looked upon my Father, giving him a closed smile to try and bring a sense of security to my lies. He grew more wrinkled with each day and his face had lost its healthy tan colour that had begun fading to an ashy grey, looking as though dust had begun to gather on his esteem.

I remembered when he shined like a powerful man would, the time when he would beacon with a sense of home. Now though, my own soul had twisted his comforting hands to ones that inflicted burden and demolishing. 

No matter how much I was hurt by what he had done, I still wished to remember the wonderful Father that he had once been, the strong willed, gentle and caring man who was an adoring and passionate husband to my bright Mother – But there was no turning back time. There is no beacon for the love to sought out and return home to.

He shakes his head, just as we reached the door to my dorm, but he doesn't make an effort to unclip the lanyard from around his neck, just yet.

"You were failing even in Mr. Roy's class before his departure, don't give me excuses." He snapped, "I can't allow this happen. If you fail, I can't just let it slide."

My heart shrieked.

"Wh–"

He cut me off, raising a hand to the air as if it was a wall for all my arriving words to smack back into my body against.

"When you begged to enrol here, I recall the promise that I would allow it, only on the standard that I would treat you the same way as I would with any other student." His eyes fell onto me, narrowing slightly but falling slack at the slight turn of my lips in brewing fears, "Which means, if you do not get your grades up, I will have to expel you."

His words were a painful blow to my guts and chest, almost leaving me winded as I stood rigid before both him and my still, locked door. Utterly paralysed, I swallowed and swallowed, trying to prevent myself from gasping in fear. 

But never-less, my attempts were weak as my words erupted loudly and echoed all throughout the silent hallway. 

"Expel me?!" I nearly heaved. 

Expelled. That's the second time it had been brought up today and although I should fear it more, when it came from my Father's mouth, all I worried about was the fact that if I had to leave this college, I most likely wouldn't see Mr. Ren ever again. 

My stomach churned. Would Kylo just shrug at my disappearance and move on to the next best thing, _Rachel Mathews'_ , who clearly had an eye keen on the raven-haired Professor?

My jaw fell and my eyes widened, but my Father didn't care, as he only now began to unwind the lanyard from around his neck and jingled it to the sound of my brittle echoes. 

"Keep your voice down, people are trying to sleep." He demanded in a nonchalant hush. 

Now only silence lingers in the air and I simultaneously, shiver in the claustrophobic tension as he awaits me to respond but only a small hitch of anxiety leaps out of my mouth as he unlocks my dorm door. Tersely, my eyes flicker into my room that just minutes ago, I was begging to run into its comfort, but now it only hums a silence which is laced with my own confusion and worry. Its confining walls that keep my Father away, seeming to wither with age as sadness takes its place.

"Father, I can't get leave here, I-I – I've made _friends."_ I turn back to him, my eyes gleaming with begging and brewing worries. 

My Father sighs casually, his eyes as dead as the parental love he holds as he dips his head back into the looping of the master-key's lanyard. 

"Well, then you better ask Mr. Ren for some work or extra credit." He chimes to his chin as he does so, then lifting his face back up to me and forcing a fake-smile, clearly satisfied that he had finally switched our power-play – Now becoming the one to hold something so treacherous over my head. 

Then motioning me into my room and leaning with his hand on the brass knob, he says one last thing, leaving me sick to my stomach with the tone that won't be overlapped by anything else until the next time my Mother forces us to all circle around the dining table. 

_"Goodnight, sweetheart."_


	14. THIRTEEN

"And so what – He stood you up?" 

I sigh a fragile breath into the crisp air of another dreary afternoon. The heat of my breath causes a pale cloud of wispy, white smoke to escape between our shoulders as I briefly glance to Percy, who walks by my side. 

With much hesitations, I had explained to my best-friend what had happened the other day, where Leo had rudely stood me up in the coffee shop we once fell in love in. At the start of my explanation, Percy was obviously livid, but kept it casual behind his cheeky sarcasm and sharp tongue, but never-less, he merely listened to all the weight being lifted off of my shoulders as I fell into a deep and distracted rambling until it came to the point where I could not tell him what else had happened after watching my coffee turn cold.

I hum a displeased tune behind my pursed lips and roll my eyes to the rain which began to fall in thin drizzles along the cracked pavement of the outside courtyards at our campus, "Well – Looking at the fact that he didn't show... Yeah, Leo stood me up."

Percy strolled slowly along my side, one hand in his coat's pocket, _which I had given back to him this morning with a slight pout_ , and with his other hand wrapped around his backpack strap. With strong features, his side-profile was still slightly disheveled as behind his sunglasses, his eyes were most-likely still glaring ahead in a daze as he pictures me so lonely but most importantly – Weak for giving into Leo Grey's pitiful games, once again.

Percy tuts behind his displeasure and shakes his head, "I wish you would have told me before you went –" He says, his thin lips then cracking a smile which he couldn't keep at bay as he nudges me in the ribs lightly with his elbow, "– So I could have stopped you. Or at least, waited in a different booth."

I laugh lightly initially, the soft pelting of rain doing its job to calm the scarlet which begins to rise in my cheeks, but my sounds only cut short when I picture Percy waiting in the booth behind mine, his coffee also cold in his hands as he watches with wide eyes – Mr. Ren make his way over and then grope my thigh as if he was tying a metaphorical leash around it, only to then pull me back out of the shop with him with it. 

I gulp a lump of worry down, my stomach knotting itself tightly as if it too, had a coarse string wrapped around it. His deep and rough voice runs a marathon in the back of my mind, causing my eyes to flicker around the courtyard, wondering just where the sound was coming from – But it was only my conscience which always wished to cling onto the words he spoke. 

_"Then, let's keep enjoying ourselves, but let's also keep this as our little secret."_

I bite my bottom lip lightly, wishing I could raise my needing fingers to them to savour the memory of his own, pressed so hard against them, but instead, all I did was shake my head and slot my first lie into my new reality, "Me too."

It didn't help that my tone betrayed me though. Nobody else may have noticed, but after being best-friends for so long, Percy was able to tell anything from the way my shoulders carried to the way my words fell. Snapping his face to me by his side, and scanning his eyes at my tense jaw with troubled eyes, he lifted his sunglasses, allowing the bleak sky to reflect into the glory of his warm and endearing, hazel eyes. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, trying to tone down his hatred for my ex to replace it with worry for my mended, but still, fragile heart, "– You know, after that?"

Our feet scuffle on the cement, my worn shoes slowly becoming thinner in the soles from how I seem to buy a pair of shoes, only to wear them until their eventual death. I glare to my laces when Percy's words and gaze strike me. 

It didn't help that he was always so caring, despite the strong nature of his heart which desired nothing more than to run Leo Grey over with his car – And although, I wanted nothing more than to spare him from the lies, after-all, he was my greatest and longest, friend... I couldn't tell him about Mr. Ren. 

Nobody can ever know – For what if on the sight chance, my Father finds out? Both Kylo and I, will be forced to leave the campus and a fraction of me is wholeheartedly certain that Mr. Ren will not care for me, unless I am the easiest woman around him. 

But right now, that isn't even one of my main concerns because there's another way that fate can play out – If I don't bump my grades up. 

"Oh, um." I start, not knowing where to start, "Y-Yeah, I just got no sleep last night."

That was partially true. I spent the whole night in a burning gaze which I glared to my cracked ceiling, where the plaster was slowly sinking and I am certain that one day the whole roof will cave in and yet, I made no effort to move my bed out from under it last night – No, I just continued to stare at the broken cracks, wondering just how I am supposed to force my creativity to come back to me so I have an actual chance of passing. 

Or instead, just like those grimy and preposterous pornos, I sleep with my teacher until he eventually bumps my grades up and over the line of passing – And so far, I am already halfway through that plan. I just need him to return the favour. 

Suddenly, Percy pulls me back to reality with an exhausted sigh, even though I was the one with the hint of silver beneath my eyes, which slightly sting in the corners from lack of sleep.

"What have I told you?" He says, flicking his sunglasses back over his nose and eyes, "You've got to invest in another mattress, your one is way too thin."

I can't help but chuckle and roll my eyes to him and his impossible, unknowing. 

"For the thousandth time, my mattress is fine." I groan and throw my head back with a smile but for some reason, Percy takes my answer in a different way. 

His smile drops as if he has realised something and although there was no way he possibly knew what I truely worried about and did after that day in the cafe, panic still grew in my guts and pierced its way into my stomach. 

"Oh." Percy's tone falls, his eyebrows furrowing above the rims of his black sunglasses, "Listen, if you are still... _Hurting_ , about Leo – I am always here to talk." He says, "Just because I think he's a colossal shit-bag, doesn't mean I ever want you to be building up all your heartbreak until it only causes more pain."

Sudden relief adds a wave of subdue to my panicking as if it is a harsh drug to numb the clinging pain of anxiety. Letting go of a breath of air which I didn't know that I was holding tightly in my chest, I brush his words away with a flick of my hand and give him a reassuring smile.

"No – No, Percy it's not Leo." I tell him, which he cocks his head at. 

"Are you sure?" He asks.

Side-stepping out of the way for two men, who wheeled multiple computers on a trolly, I went to reach for my backpack strap as I did so, but only grazed my nails on the material of my jacket, pulling on a loop of a loose strand out and getting it caught in my fingers. 

It seems with this incredible weight on my shoulders, I had somehow forgotten that I left my bag in Kylo's sleek car and a part of me was begging that he didn't go through it, but another _part of me_ deep down knew he would, I mean... He hung my jacket in his closet. What's to stop him from going through my bag and finding the poem that I told him I had forgotten the other day in class?

 _Man,_ it's going to be hard to keep all of this to myself. Percy's previous words ring in my mind now and I think to myself, maybe I shouldn't keep _everything_ to myself, otherwise it will become too big to handle.

I shake my head, despite my answer to Percy. I meet his side once more as we walk our way to his class, meaning after that, I will have to swiftly dodge all of the Science and Computer majors, who seem to all walk with their heads down, and then pace myself to my own Literature class.

"Yes." I say. 

He chuckles, nudging his elbow into my ribs once again, only to catch me by my own elbow as I nearly fall into a girl who walked by. 

"Are you sure, that you're sure?"

I flick his hand away and give him a fake scolding for nearly causing me to spill the girl's coffee all over both myself and her, "Yes!" I chime, licking my lips before giving him a mere sliver of what I keep away from him, "In-fact, I think I have finally found a distraction."

I mentally want to run back to that girl now and pour her hot coffee all over my face. I shouldn't have said that, and I knew it was wrong as soon as it fled my quick mouth. 

Percy's steps faulted for a moment, his face falling into one of shock but I groan and pull him by the bicep to keep moving with me as his eyebrows cock in a sarcastic manner. Here comes the baleful winds of ironic sneers from Percy Mcarthy.

"A distraction, huh?" He belted, his teeth gleaming to the wintry glaze above, "Is that what we're calling it now?"

I punch him in the shoulder, "Oh, shut up." 

Like a thirteen year-old girl at a sleepover, I can see the shift in Percy's brain at the news and in his metaphorical, best nightdress, I imagine him laying on his stomach in a pile of pillows, his chin resting on his fists and with his feet crossed in the air behind him as he tries to coax all the information out of poor-old me. 

"Do you think that he's hot?" He smirks.

_He looks like a Greek God._

"... Yes."

He nods, "Is he nice?" 

_He sits on the verge of nice._

"I-I suppose?"

His tone drags next, as if he is uncertain what he wants my answer to be, "Does he go here?"

A sharp shiver ricochets down my spine, clinging and clanging against each bone loudly in my own sudden sting of panic. My heart heaves inwards as if it is trying to cower away and my mind wants to quickly dissociate from my body. I truely am so stupid. Is it possible that I could be failing on life and the lessons of how to keep _shit_ to myself, as-well as Literature?

_Yes, actually – He does go here. In-fact, he's my new Literature Professor, would you like to meet him? He sure is welcoming and joyful._

I shake my head stiffly and my lips go suddenly dry in the crisp air, "N-No, he doesn't go here." 

Despite the rambling of my mind, Percy is oblivious to my sudden jitters as I shove my hands into my jacket pockets, wishing that I wore jeans today to slip my hands into the extremely tight and impractical pockets which all female denim had, because the space of my deep jacket patches were too spacious to stop the shaking of my fingers. 

I suppose it was me being utterly and hopelessly, foolish, this morning when I woke up with the thought of Kylo Ren in my mind – And like a childish and ignorant school-girl, I rose with a weak and tired smile which beamed with a certain but hidden, excitement to see my Professor. 

Ripping my closet open this morning, I scanned my eyes roughly over every article of clothing I had, wondering what colour is Mr. Ren's favourite. Does he prefer tight jeans or a summer-style dress which I now wore obnoxiously in the winter? 

I shift my chin down and flick my eyes to the top of my dress. It was one that I bought years ago at a flash sale, meaning it was well-overdue for a wear – But as my legs slightly prickle beneath the tights I had to wear beneath it, I knew straight away this would be the first and last time I ever wear this unfortunate dress.

It's unbearable and embarrassing, how much Mr. Ren makes me feel like a sixteen year-old girl again, only when I was sixteen I still was never this hardwired with lust and everlasting anticipation for the next moment with my overbearing and painful, _crush._

"Alright. I just hope this time that you are able to tell the warning signs." Percy chimes when I roll my eyes to myself, hoping that my inner voice will finally shut the Hell up already, but when Percy's own words sink in and replace the void, I give him a slightly offended smile.

He speaks with a tone of friendly-but-tired advice to which I cock a brow up at and he quickly adds more to save himself, "Or I hope that there's no warning signs at all... I just want you to be happy again."

_Happy._

When the sun begins to peak out from behind the cold rain, casting the trees in their virescent hues and bringing the warm brown tones back to the earth, I can't help but think only about Kylo Ren even though I spoke about another man, who once used to take up all the space of my mind and soul, the same way Mr. Ren now did. It's as if invisible holes have been poked into my skin during the night and all the heartbreak had begun to leech out.

And although I do not want to admit it, I notice that my steps feel lighter and less carried by the weight of unfortunate missing. I tilt my face toward the brilliant shafts breaking through the canopy above. "Me too" I still hum behind all my true wonders which begin to cloud like heavens around the danger of Kylo Ren.

I laugh lightly and nervously to myself, trying to cover the time I had just taken in silence of pure and invisible longing for my Professor and replace the quiet conversation with another casualty which I didn't truely care about anymore. 

"I just wish Leo had never done what he did and that we could have broken up easier or on same terms. Then maybe, I wouldn't be so melancholy or useless when it comes to writing." I shrug. 

It's as if I am instead, now just filling the blanks. I once thought my heartbreak was something that time could never mend, but now in this infinite distraction that came with such exhilarating consequences, I seemed to fall into an intoxicating state which blessed the heartache into a leading on, numbness. 

Though, I knew that these consequences could bring an even rougher patch of wasted hurt, if I am not careful. But I will be. I have to be.

Percy shakes his head and grumbles, "No – Even with Leo, you weren't happy." 

I flinch slightly, furrowing my brows and chuckling a breath of uncertainty to the tall boy to my right, "What?" I say, flicking my eyes to his pale hands which clasped onto his black backpack straps and then back to his nonchalant face, "Yes I was."

I think back thoroughly to my relationship with Leo Grey. Skim over the breakup. Advert my eyes from the red flags. Grimace at his narcissism and habit of gaslighting me... And I look at the way he held me on cold nights where we stayed up passed curfew to watch the pink skies of sunrise. The beat of his calm heart beneath his chest which I would lay upon. The day he gave me one of his gloves because I forgot mine. His smile. His eyes. 

But nothing flutters in my chest, the way my heart bursted into a million butterflies on the weekend. It just kept... Beating. What was happening to me? Was I too obsessed with Kylo Ren? Had my Literature Professor, truely clawed through every grave of my soul even though he was barely inviting to me, unless I opened my legs for entry first?

_Was I truely happy back then? Or had I just forced myself to think that I was?_

"Well maybe, but I don't know..." Percy sighs, his dark hair beginning to dampen in the slight rain, "He just seemed so possessive of you, and you only allowed him to, like... _Own you?"_

I laugh loudly, throwing my head back at his words, "Own me!"

This time I think it is his turn to punch me in the shoulder for my burst of sarcasm but when he extends his arm, he doesn't give me a soft blow but only wraps his arm across my back and lays his hand over my left shoulder in a brotherly and friendly manner.

"You know what I mean." He tuts, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses with a sharp grin beneath it, "Listen – I am happy for you if you have found someone else, but this time... Don't be owned. Be free." He exclaims in a mimicked voice from a brainless reality show that he and I used to binge.

"Free?" I chimed in the same mockery as I curled my hand around his torso, leaning into the crook beneath his arm. For someone so pale, Percy had always been warm. He was like my own personal heater and I remember when we were fourteen, I used to call him my sun – Until I realised at fourteen and a half, that was incredibly weird. 

I click my tongue to the top of my roof and advert my gaze to straight ahead of us, "Alright. Whatever you s–"

The wave of dark and soft hair catches my eye as if it was a glimmer of gold, shining at the bottom of a murky pool. In the courtyards, he looks so out of place – With his broad shoulders and towering height. His pale features are etched into that familiar expression of seething, yet smouldering and his dark eyes glow a certain ray in the bland surroundings. 

No matter how many times my unworthy eyes catch onto his glory, I am always stricken with a thunderbolt of surprise, as if I was back sitting in the second row of class, awaiting the dreary Mr. Roy to walk in, only to be met with the revelation of a fallen angel himself – Even though, Mr. Ren acted as if he was moulded by the Devil's hands.

"Hello?" Percy suddenly waves a hand in-front of my face and only then, do I notice that I had stopped walking completely, caught dead in my tracks with a stunned expression on my face as I fall into the whims way of Kylo Ren's gaze.

It feels as if Kylo has the ability to stretch time so thin, that wherever he goes I am shoved out of this slip of reality and into a multiverse where he is the only thing that matters. Everyone begins to slow around him and even Percy's voice was so muffled and deep, that it resembled the moments where you're about to pass out and crash to the floor – Only, Mr. Ren's eyes were keeping me perfectly still.

"Hello," Percy sang again, not being able to tell what struck me into this state as I began to slowly unclip my hand from his side, "Earth to–"

When Mr. Ren turns his head away and begins to continue on going to wherever he was headed, the multiverse he created crashed all around me and I was brought back to this bland world. 

I shake my head and the rest of the brittle feelings of after-shock away, and then pat Percy on the shoulder, "– You keep going." I smile and nod crazily as I begin to walk backwards away from him, pointing my thumb over my shoulder, "I've got to talk to... My Professor."

I dart on my heel back around before Percy can even say another word and practically sprint after the man, who was a clear head taller than the group he just side-swiped through, ahead. 

"Mr. Ren!" I call. He seems to not hear.

I say my quick apologies to the same group as I clip shoulders with two of them, the same way he did.

"Mr. Ren!" I call again, this time much softer because the distance between us is slowly closing, and yet, he still doesn't hear me.

My thin-soled, converse-shoes are hard to run in, especially with the uncomfortable thickness of stockings worn beneath socks, but I slow my pace down when he's nearly in reach, curling my hair behind my ears as I say his name once more. 

"Mr. R–"

He abruptly turns around, nearly sending me crashing into his chest as a couple of students walk around us in the courtyards, too busy on their own path to care what caused ours to stop as Kylo grabs me by the wrists to stop me from smacking against him.

My heart is beating incredibly fast as my eyes widen and my breathing is rapid, but that doesn't stop me from sucking in a sharp breath when I notice the way he scowls down at me.

"What are you doing?" He curls his fingers tightly around the flesh of my wrists before slightly pushing me away and dropping them altogether. 

I flinch back slightly and my lips part as he glares through narrowed eyes before flicking the brown around us in search for a prying eye or a listening ear of a student, but barely anyone was around.

"Do you not remember our agreement?" He asks.

With the unique pattern of freckles upon his silvery-pale flesh and eyes that whispered of secrets and sin, I stood before Kylo Ren now with a sudden timid nerve running like a bullet through my soul. I most definitely wished that I had my backpack now, just so I could have a reason to cling onto something that isn't the skirt material of the dress that I moronically wore only to somehow impress him – I almost wished I had my book of scribblings, just so I could clutch it against my chest as if it was a lifeline against his storms as I swallowed with a thinly veiled, stranglehold of caution.

When my mouth dries to the cocking of his brow, I breathe a nervous laugh and say, "Um – Agreement or not, you're still my Professor." 

His prominent jaw tenses but there is nothing he can do to protest, so he just sighs and takes a slight step backwards and adjusts the strap of his book bag across his shoulder as he says with a tone of disinterest, "And what do you need, Miss?"

My heart pricks at the lack of needed attention but I refuse to wallow in my self-pity. What did I expect? That he would pick me up and twirl me around in his arms? No – We had to be secretive. But that didn't explain the unnecessary look of pain on his face as he tried not to give anything away as his knuckles curled into a brighter white around his strap, as if it was torture to keep his true fervour at bay. 

I nod to myself and sigh, recalling the real reason I needed to speak to the handsome man that I was secretly allowing to bend me over, whenever he wishes.

"I need to talk to you about my grades." I say, my shoulders falling with every vowel I said. 

It was embarrassing to even admit it, although he most definitely already knows that I am failing by a landslide – But that didn't mean anything to me, it only made me feel as if the age-gap between us was stretched out even further and that he was slowly going to nit-pick through all my flaws and label them as immaturity. 

But when I see the slight rise of a coy smirk, I forget all about my worries and only pay attention to him. My knees begin to tremble, just the way a little girl's would, when his eyes begin to scan me. The warmth of his brown gaze starts from the part of my hair, all the way down to the dress I wore and just when he notices the shaking of my nervous knees, he quickly snaps his eyes back to mine as if his stare had never happened. 

"Ah. Grades." He nods, then tilting the back of his head to the direction he was already headed, "Come. We will talk in the classroom, _away from everyone else."_

There's no need to be suspicious, for I clearly understand the deep and lascivious intent behind his words and tones. 

My eyes would widen even more if that could be possible as I stutter in the heart of the courtyard, "B-But... We only have twenty minutes until class?"

Kylo chuckles in the sardonic way I have accepted him to always tease me with as his eyes glimmer with certain mischief as if truely, he is the immature one here, "We are only talking about grades, are we not?"

My stomach twists and for a second, I fret that my own crushing desire for him, had hijacked my mind and hallucinated that he spoke like he had before, "Right." I nod quickly to hide the clash of both relief and disappointment, "G-Grades."

As I follow his lead, the other students we now pass, gave Kylo a wide berth unlike the group he had smashed shoulders with, it was as if everyone took one look at Mr. Ren and decided that it was best to just keep out of his way and avoid crossing paths with his brooding stare entirely. 

What did they all possess that I didn't? Why hadn't I found the power to avoid the gorgeous but overly intimating man before me? I didn't matter. I still know I would refuse to take whatever drug they all did to keep their longing at bay, for Kylo gave me a certain rush that no drug could compete with, good or bad.

I observed Mr. Ren's tense back through the veil of a nonchalant expression, noting the way his back muscles were caressed by his shirt as if the material was a wave over soft sand. I flicker my gaze away though, when we walk through the doors and into the halls of the block where his Literature class was tucked away in. 

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had no reason to watch Mr. Ren that much or in that way, passerby's may think I am ready to pounce onto him or something.

When I stop behind him, I insure there's at least a metre of distance between us, for my intentions are only panicking now in foolery, thinking that if anyone were to even notice me breathe in his direction, they will somehow now that only days ago, I was tucked beneath him in his own bed.

He unlocks the door with his set of keys casually and when the door slips open, I take no time in quickly rushing beneath his arm and into the empty room – The curtains are still drawn shut from the lonely weekend, but I refuse to acknowledge that it is a benefit, or it could mean anything else – _Grades._

The classroom auditorium looks as if it is still the weekend with the curtains shut this way and the endless rows of tables and chairs empty – But it is the silence which lingers and sends a shiver down my spine as I can almost feel Kylo stand so tall behind me, once the clicking of the lock echoes.

I turn to face him and suddenly, with just one look, I find that I was right the first time – His intentions were lascivious. He's so much taller than me, it's almost painful to crane my neck to try and level out with the gloss of his stare, where beneath the sheer intensity, a swirl of desire bleeds into the brown. 

We stand in this silence for a couple of heartbeats and if the curtains weren't drawn, I'd expect the outside world to have stopped spinning. He drags his eyes all over me and I only melt in the stare. It's as if he assesses me like his favourite novel, reads me as well as his favourite poem.

It was a blessing and a curse. It only left my emotions out on a platter for him to pick from and yet, he always indulged me in the most perfect way, for he knew just how to savour me. 

He was truely so powerful with this hidden ability, but I can only thank the heavens that Kylo Ren cannot truely read minds – For I am certain that he would use that ability to his advantage and I wouldn't be so desirable to him, if he knew how I was riddled with heartache, loneliness but I was slowly crossing the lines without forgiveness, falling into a deep infatuation for him. A crush. A puppy love.

I swallowed hard. The silence was making me uncomfortable and I felt like he was trying to read my feelings, in the same way I just fretted him doing so. I shifted in his gaze and looked back to the covered windows, waiting for him to ask me about my grades or instead just bend me over a desk already. He still had his eyes on me, exceptionally calm with every rise and fall of his broad chest but as I turned my head slightly back and considered him again, he blew a warm breath onto my face.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you." He said finally with a deep and raspy tone – One strikingly different to the way he spoke to me in the courtyard across campus.

I stop the gasp that rose through my chest, right in the middle of my throat to spare my embarrassment but it didn't matter for my stutter was enough to turn my cheeks crimson, "R-Really?"

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and when he let go of it, the rosy flesh emerged slightly plumper, wetter and pinker and I found myself staring at the sight of his lips and wondering if he wanted to kiss me in the same demanding way I wished to right now, which made my eyes dart to his arms and think of him holding me in them the way he curled over me back at his house.

"Yeah." He cooed, suddenly moving an inch forward, leaving barely any space between us as just the mounds of my covered breasts slightly pressed against his toned chest, "You and your pretty mouth."

_"Oh."_

When he curls his big hands over my hips, I find my trembling to halt as if he _was_ that lifeline in the winds, that I spoke of before. I immediately know where our sails are heading and though the storms are brewing above us, I merely allow him to adjust my flags as he tugs me in for a deep kiss, only to pull away shortly after and blow the first gust of a brewing hurricane onto my face and strike me with the flash of lighting in his eyes as he says, "Show me what it can do, again."

In one quick motion, he pushes me down to the floor and I only kneel before him – My knees clicking loudly as he leans against the door to the classroom. It doesn't take long as I watch him through my eyelashes, unclasp and loop his belt off and drag his pants halfway down his milky and toned thighs, revealing his long length.

I take him in my drooling mouth before he notices the shimmer of spit which glazed my bottom lip in toxic lust which began to core in the pit of my abdomen, where I really wanted his member to be. 

He pushed himself into the back of my throat in a swift movement, his hips slowly moving at a low, slow thrust as he entangled his hands within my hair. My gag reflex acted up a bit as he began to pick up his speed. 

I wasn't bothered by the primal urges bursting forth from himself, but I was a little thrown off that in the midst of the burning pain of hitting the back of my throat so forcefully, I was actually enjoying the pleasure within the pain, more than I thought I would. My saliva only began building up as he yanked on my head harder, my eyes still connected to his animalistic hollow ones of brown, through my eyelashes as I could feel him twitch within the warmth of my mouth.

A small adrenaline rush flushed over my body as I squirmed a bit on my knees, digging the heels of my converse to the tingling need that sat behind both the material of my underwear and stockings.

"That's it." He rasped heavily, his breathing erratic in his movements, "– Such a good girl." He praised, although he was doing all the work, I was just the warm hole for him to fuck. 

His dirty words sounded acidic yet strangely erotic at the same time as he then without warning, hissed, "But you're not a good girl, are you?" 

I shake my head around his length.

"You're failing." He hummed staring me down, the pale cheeks of his, too, turning a slight pink, "Good girls don't fail."

His long fingers run through my hair endlessly, slightly tugging on it here and there. My eyes widened as he thrusted harshly to spite his soft pats in my hair. Deep down, I knew there was a darker and more animalistic side to his persona, and this, was not quite what I was expecting when someone once told me that college is the time to experiment sexually, _but Hell_ , it was hot. 

Seeing his pupils dilated, like a wild cat with a playful streak, it was as if I was his ball of yarn or the helpless, flightless bird which he would bite into with his ferocious teeth and yet, I only flaunted my wounds like they were marks of praise.

"S-Sweetheart." He suddenly shifted his tone, tilting his head to the side at me, "Did you come to ask for extra credit?"

Just being near him lights me up inside and gives me a serenity I can never know without him being close. It's like the breaths I take aren't full when he's away, like the smiles I smile are incomplete somehow and when I only nod around his member with hopeful eyes, he gives me a croaky chuckle. 

"Then..." He says, bewildering me as he pulls swiftly out from my mouth, gliding his length off of my tongue as his own flicks to the corner of his rosy smirk, _"You'll have to work for it."_

My eyes grow wide as he shifted once more and my mouth parted as I craned my head up to him only for him to then, tug me back to my real height by grasping his hands beneath my armpits as if I was a rag-doll. 

I swallowed the remaining taste of him down when I noticed the way his dark hair slightly stuck to the sweet sweat which glazed his forehead. I felt the energy humming between us again and almost melted as he reached out to my face and tucked a tendril of my own hair, back behind my hair and then grazed his fingers down my cheek, to my neck and then to my shoulder.

I gasp loudly when he curls the hand around the cupping of my shoulder and shifts our positions to force my back now against the door and leaned in, leaving me to melt around the heat that exuded off of his panting chest.

"Shhh –" He moved his hands down to my hips, but they didn't stop there, they only kept moving until they twined around the back of my thighs, gripping onto them and then in one swift movement as if I weighed nothing at all, he lifted me against the door, winding my legs around his naked flesh. 

The quick reposition only caused me to smack the back of my head against the locked door, but Kylo just smirked at my wince, "You don't want everyone to hear me giving out extra credit, do you?"

Tears began to pool in my intoxicated eyes and once the sharp pain faded, ever so slowly, an involuntary moan escaped my lips, as I felt my core already clenching for him to make his home out of me, only to then ravage it. 

I heard a slight hum of satisfaction escape his lips. "Then everyone will want some." He chuckled, his fingers slowly trailing the already hot skin beneath my thin tights, but suddenly, his soft touches faulted and his blunt nails curled into the materials. 

When the sound of sheer ripping filled the room, I didn't protest, I only bucked my legs into him, the skin of them prickling with an army of goosebumps. Once again, my hair framed my face, and the cloud of fabric falling to his feet made him look like an angel standing on a cloud of pure ecstasy, even though the material of my tights were as black as his intentions. 

Kylo only grabbed me closer to which my ankles, which the stockings were still connected to, locked around his back. His fingers, ever-so-delicately, adjust themselves to my underwear, swiping the material to the side to reveal my most nakedness and he bucked himself to the entry at the sight.

Mr. Ren's voice was snarky and quick before he shoved himself into me without preparation, I nearly scream but stop myself as he only continues to taunt me, "– Especially Miss. Mathews." He smirked to my growl at Rachel's mention, "She's failing just as much as you a–" His words were cut off, but not by me – By his own choked moan as my walls tightened around him.

When my eyes roll to the back of my head, is when I take the time to wonder, just how the Hell this is happening, once again and so quickly, but when he does his first quick thrust, I bite that thought away, embedding my teeth into my bottom lip in efforts to keep my moans at bay beneath this passionate hurricane. 

Though, when Kylo moves his head into the crook of my neck, his teeth scrape over the revealed skin for me to feel it prick the flesh just enough to bring a dot of captured blood beneath it, and I jolt. A breathy whine escapes me before I can stop it behind my own teeth, and Kylo chuckles against his mark.

With every thrust, the door slightly clicks against the lock embedded inside the wall and I can only hope that nobody is outside waiting early for the class which should begin in ten minutes, little do the rest of his students know, that Mr. Ren is currently inside one of them. 

I tremble against him, only able to cling onto his shoulder as my other hand grips his own hair harshly this time as pleasure makes my mind dizzy. I know I'm so close and he must know it too with the way I keep tightening around him with every roll and buck of his tenacious hips.

He _fucks_ me roughly and the door only now scrapes against my back when he moves, and the little sounds I make only feed his fast pace until it becomes sloppy. He's perfect inside of me, hard, hot and thick enough to pound against every sweet spot with every harsh thrust. 

And eventually, when he holds back a loud moan and shakes within me, his eyes clenching tightly shut, I too – Hold back my own screams as an electric wave slithers in a rush unlike no other, through every vein, crevasse, cell and nerve in my body.

I pull his hair in my elation, only able to cling to him as the pleasure makes me dissociate as I cause him to expose the tendrils of corded, blue veins in his pale neck. Then, raking my fingernails down his back, I become desperate in my silent climax as I feel his muscles only twitch both around and inside me.

He leans in for a quick and messy kiss before letting me meet the ground once more, my legs wobbly and feet filled with a thousand prickles of numb, pins and needles. As we allow the ticking of the clock to count down our slowing breathing, I adjust my underwear and assess the damage of his impatience. 

I pluck my tights from over his shoes, to which it pulls on my ankles as I raise the broken end into our eye-line. 

"You tore my tights!" I exclaimed behind the scarlet of my cheeks, waddling after him as he only rolled his eyes whilst tucking himself in and making his way over to his wooden, messy desk. 

He doesn't answer me, but instead pulls his drawer open to retrieve a pair of silver, sharp scissors – I don't protest when he is the one to kneel before me now, heading the scissors to the material of my tights which were still clad around my feet beneath both my socks and converse.

He swiftly cuts the rest of my tights off my ankles and pulls them out of my hands entirely once he's done, chuckling at his handy work and shaking his head. 

I furrow my brows and hold my hand out for them back, curling my fingers in and out of my palm like a child would before snatching the possession, "Come on, pass them."

He raises his head back to me and shakes his head with an amused expression, "No - No." He simply says, his voice still sounding rough from keeping a moan in the middle of his throat. Then, he opens his drawer once more, throwing the scissors back into their place, only to rumple my tights above them as if they were the stuffing to a present.

"I'm keeping these." He murmurs. 

"W–" I begin, but when his expression shifts, I stop myself before I ruin the moment and instead lean against his desk with a sigh, my legs still jittery and limp, "Alright." 

He hums, nodding his head once as he praised me like I was his favourite pet, "Good girl."

He then slides back around to my side of the desk and after buckling back up his belt, he takes one glance at the analogue clock, checking the time he has to slap away the high out of his pink cheeks so he can attempt to teach a class of fifty with a hazy mind. 

I swallow again when his right hand slides onto my left hand on top of the table and gives it a light squeeze which sent a gentle jolt of energy throughout my entire body, as if it didn't need a weeks rest from what had just happened against the classroom door.

I quickly looked down at my hand which was covered by his large hand. A strange humming, vibrating sensation came over me and I looked back up to his drunken eyes, giving him a weak but relieved smile, "So you'll do it?" I asked, "You'll bump my grades up?"

Kylo Ren tilted his head and gave a simple, yet slightly offended laugh, "Oh, Sweetheart." He cooed, brushing his thumb along the back of my hand, "As diligent as you just were. You're going to have to actually work harder than that."

My face falls, my lips parting slack the same way they had around his long length.

"What?" I scoff in disbelief, "Harder how?"

He slides his hand off mine and rolls his eyes, then moving back around to the other side of his desk to fall into the office-chair, shifting the play in stall so he was always the one who seemed in power.

"As in actually do your work." He remarked with a coy smile as if I was asking a stupid question.

I throw my head back and groan, "Oh, my God." I say in vain – Though it didn't matter for the way I had easily and immodestly let my Professor wreck me, only moments ago, I was surely going to Hell. 

The sweet moment ends abruptly and the Professional, Mr. Ren takes the place of the man who couldn't contain himself. My legs still slightly tremble and they are briskly cold without my tights to cover the flesh he once ran his big hands all over, but still, I move slightly away from the desk as he says,

"You can start by writing me that poem that you were meant to give me the other week." My chest heaves at the mention of the poem which now sat in the book, Lolita – In my bag, which sat in his car.

"You know, the one that you forgot." He adds and for a moment, I think he most definitely went through it.

"Okay." I drag out my words tiredly, my shoulders dropping as I run my nail along the glossed wood, "Will do, Sir."

Kylo nods once, the scarlet in his face finally diminishing as he fixes the mess of his sleek hair and glances back to the clock with an exasperated huff, "Alright. Go wait outside or something." He flicks his hand to the door, "Class starts in five minutes."

I meekly nod and turn around with the roll of my eyes. When I finally reach the door and unclip the lock, I spring back around in realisation.

"Oh, wait!" I call to him from across the room, to which he narrows his eyes at me for, "Do you have my bag? I left it in your car."

He furrows his brows for a split second as his eyes take in the flesh of my legs, but then all at once, it must click in his brain as he chuckles and says, 

"Ah, yes." He nods only to stop mid way and tilt his head at me, "But it seems, I forgot it. I'll bring it next lesson."

_Alright. He read the poem._

I nod and turn back around, speaking above the twist of the doorknob, just before I slip out of the classroom with a pensive smirk among my tingling lips,

_"Okay, just don't go hanging it in your closet like you did with my jacket."_


	15. FOURTEEN

I envy the nights where the creativity used to flow through my veins and bleed out onto my page with my pens ink. Though my dependence regarding my stay at campus was heavily weighing on the poem which I had to hand in for extra credit, the pages that I asked Rachel Mathews' to tear out of her own book, were incredibly light – The only words engraving the last two white pages left, being her initials which were personally printed above the header.

It didn't help that Mr. Ren had my bag where my book, poem and keys were all lost inside and it certainly didn't make my horrid situation any better that I knew Kylo had read the poem shoved into the binding of Lolita, for now I can't even hand in the exact same work.

I trudged back from the campus library obnoxiously late, having stayed passed the closing hour until the grey and old librarian did her nightly sweep and found me still huddled in the corner table, searching my digits across endless sentences of famous poems, hoping that the writer's muse could somehow smack into me upon a single glance – But to no avail, I couldn't figure out anything to write about and ultimately, the grumpy librarian kicked me out.

The air is still crisp and in the midnight hue, the shadowy cast is a cursing blame which ricochets an army of goosebumps across my skin and a silver tinge to form beneath my bleary-eyed, daze. 

My Father would be smacked with an incredible vexation of enragement if he knew that I still hadn't gotten my keys from, _Percy's car –_ But I can't help but also feel slightly anxious as I stand in-front of my dorm-door, clenching my eyes closed and silently praying behind the dark lids that my room hasn't been ransacked and left cold with an empty space, as I merely twist the unlocked knob and push through, taking only a suspended second before opening my eyes.

Empty and cold – But reassuringly, everything has been left intact, even the stack of three, empty take-out trays which sat on my desk waiting to be flicked into the bin beside it.

I heave out a tired sigh and drop the trays into the bin and then kick it beneath my desk when the smell of last-night's Chinese take-out hits my crinkling nose. 

After spending an hour laying on my back with my phone held above my face and after, confirming that I will, _reluctantly,_ come to dinner with my Mother and Father in a couple of days; I finally give up on staring at the message that I had sent to Leo, asking what had happened that day when he was supposed to meet me in the coffee shop on the edge of main-avenue, and instead scoffed at the growing number in the corner, which showed how long ago he had read it – And not replied.

I throw my phone to the foot of the bed and sit up with a huff. Percy was right. Leo Grey was a colossal, giant, obnoxious and narcissistic, _asshole._

I swing my legs over the bed and mutter incoherent curses to myself as I pull out the slip of papers Rachel had _graciously_ given me. It was unnerving, Rachel had always been nice to me, despite the ways she would often flick her glittered lids up and down to assess what wretched outfit she had disapproved of that day which I wore, the same as she would with the one before that – But I can't help but recognise that growing despair of burning spite of resentment for her. 

It wasn't her blonde, soft locks and it wasn't her perfect smile or tan complexion – It was the fact that I could tell from the gentle sway of her hips and the way she would graze her white teeth upon the plushness of her rosy bottom lip, that she was after Mr. Ren. And although, Kylo was hardly mine and would never be anything but a secret-affair, I couldn't help but envy the idea of him with anyone else but me. 

I can see the delusion in the reflection of the photo-frame which sits on my bedside table and I shake my head to myself and all of my unfortunate heartstrings which can't help but wish to twine around the pensive soul of my Professor, and I can't tell whether it is because I am so incredibly tired of being lonely after coming out of a long relationship, or if because truely, Mr. Ren is making me fall to my wits-end with his dark gaze and extreme sense of mystery which surrounded his demanding power. 

I'm like a moth drawn to his flame, but unlike no other, Professor Ren had no warmth to spare, only a cold touch to thrill my burning heart with a new sensation unlike no other and yet, I suppose I will only let him place his frozen hands upon me until they burn so cold.

I shake my head to myself as I cross out Rachel's initials at the top of the page for the eight time as I find myself crawling through my memories rather than leaping into the forgotten void of my innovation. What am I even suppose to write about? It's embarrassing enough to assume that Mr. Ren has already seen the last poem which I had somehow and remarkably, written about him.

𝙻𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚝, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠. 𝚆𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚎𝚗𝚟𝚢'𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠.

Suddenly, a soft knock on the door erupts my penmanship and a black stripe scratches across the page of my work as I jolt and flinch to the sound. Throwing my pen onto my desk with infuriation, I glance at the clock to only knit my eyebrows at the time. 

Mumbling lowly to myself, I lean over in my chair and twist the brass knob forcefully to the right, leaving the hardwood to shriek against my room's floor as it grated open slowly. _I swear, if Percy has decided to sneak into the dorms for whatever reason, I will honestly ki–_

My body's nerves erupt as if I have injected fireworks into the bloodstream.

The hallway behind him is illuminated only by the flickering lights which are so dimly lit behind his brooding darkness. The only thing which was saving the slight shimmer of gold in his brown eyes, was the outside luminescence which manages to sneak its way through the opened curtains beside my single bed. 

Maybe, it was the moon and stars outside which decorated his lips as it smirked in that knowing way they always would stretch into before me – Or perhaps, it was the night's firmament which made him seem much bigger than he was, as his casted shadow stands in my dorm-doorway, for it surely cannot be something less considerate or unpoetic, like the street-light out my window which still shined a shadowy beacon for me to gravitate to. 

I leap up from my chair when my anxiety soars into my stunned state, hard-wiring me to move quick and pull him into my room before slamming the door shut behind him, then twisting the lock on for the first time since loosing my key.

I turn to him as he chuckles low and I run a shaking hand through my hair, "You can't be here, how do you even know where my dorm is?"

Kylo Ren seems to ignore my quick and hushed screaming to him as he merely takes in his surroundings, casting his beautiful eyes to every inch and corner of my bedroom. Swallowing roughly, I hurriedly kick the bin with the takeout further beneath my desk and side-step in-front of him, repeating my words before the scarlet begins to rise in my cheeks.

Kylo bites his smirk to keep it at bay, but he cannot help the deep laugh behind it as he rolls his eyes and slips something off his right shoulder to throw it onto the bed after pulling something out of it.

"It's written on your keys." He jingled my set of silver keys in-front of my face after throwing my bag out of his hands and I bite my tongue at the keychain I had connected to it, because as Mr. Ren, shockingly, stood in my room, I couldn't help but feel as if he was peering to see all the childish traits I have, which he shouldn't be lusting after. 

The takeout, the fluffy keychain, the slight mess and pile of un-folded clothes in the corner... None of this was helping my case of seeming mature enough for him and I couldn't believe that my inner monologue was fretting more about his judgements than what motivated him to be standing in my dorm right this moment. 

His eyes scan my face slowly as if he is trying to read what caused the furrowing of my brows as he then too, chucked the set of keys onto my single bed beside the window. 

"– Which I came here to give back to you." He added, slowly. 

Out of focus, I shook my head and couldn't help the laugh that escaped my mouth as I motioned to the clock on my desk and turned back to him with wide eyes, "At 2:15AM?!" I exclaimed, "What if someone saw you loitering around the female dorm-halls?"

With my desk lamp now doing more than the pale moonlight could ever to to shine upon his handsome features, I can't help but feel the excitement of seeing him again, bubble in my stomach and burst a tickling sensation upon the bottom of my heart. This cannot be real, I must have fallen asleep upon my desk and slipped into a dream.

Mr. Ren rolls his eyes and tilts his head in a mocking way as he says with his deep and velvety voice, "Relax – Nobody saw me." My eyes flicker to his big and inviting hands, just as they reach for my cheeks and hold me in-between them as he adds, "And I came so late because I knew it was going to be easier to see you without having to worry about... _Intrusions."_

He pulls away and turns casually, once again taking in the view of my messy room as I stand stunned to the meaning of his words. I gaped openly as I observed his sharp jaw, chin, and cheekbones, which turned in every direction of my bedroom, often tilting at certain objects, like the teddybear which sat on-top of my dusty bookshelf.

"Intrusions?" I breathed, my shoulders falling in defeat as he slowly made his way over to my bookshelf to run a finger along all the spines, "You didn't even know if I had a roommate or not."

A crease folds between his eyebrows as he narrows his eyes at the titles, possibly judging my taste in poetry and novels as he also considers what I have said with a sharp smile. 

"Hm. That's a good point." He points to me, but then waves his hand away as if he truely didn't care about the consequence or possibility of me having company, "– But I guess with your lips clouding my mind, I seem to have lost all my judgements."

A gasp erupts in the middle of my lungs and falls through my lips audibly. When my legs begin to tremble, I am only reminded of what had happened only earlier today in his classroom, before he began to teach the whole class with a tone of disinterest, as if he had forgotten or never truely _fucked me_ against the door only moments before.

What was he doing here? I know that he said he had come to bring my bag, but he also said earlier today that he would bring it next lesson... So why was he casually standing in my bedroom, inspecting the books upon my shelf with a long, pale finger?

"S-Sir?" I stutter suddenly, making my way over to the foot of my bed and sitting upon it as he stands by the bookshelf to the side of me. Kylo glances at me just when I pull my bag into my lap and begin to rummage through it to avoid an awkward silence.

It's always so remarkable, how different Kylo is when he isn't dressed in his formal attire nor around the presence of other students. He's almost playful, still absolutely brooding and nonchalant, but still... There's a slight mischief in his gait without the pressure of being caught weighing down his broad shoulders.

"Why are you here?" I ask as I meet his eyes and once I have pulled my notebook and novel of Lolita out. Though, just when I begin to flick through the pages of Lolita, the words flickering across the paper quickly and in a rush, I swallow timidly at the missing poem of mine which _isn't_ tucked into the binding.

My Professor shrugs, his eyes dark as he holds out his big hand to me, motioning for the book in my grip. I sigh and place it into his palm after allowing my gaze to flicker upon the long veins of blue which stick up beneath his pale-white flesh.

"I wanted to see your room. After-all, you've seen mine." He says, turning back to the bookshelf and slipping Lolita upon the wood, right into the perfect place at the bottom, where it belonged and where I always put it – To the left of The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame, which was a book that my Mother gave to me for my ninth birthday. 

_What a coincidence._

When Kylo turns back to me, he stands so tall in my room that it seems as if all the walls and the ceiling have caved in, making it seem much smaller than it actually is, whilst my shoulders too, shrink into me and I have to look away when he gives me that _damn_ smirk.

I bite my tongue at the missing poem, but decide to flick through the pages of my notebook as-well casually, as I speak, "O-Oh." I stutter to his previous words, only meekly furrowing my brows as my mouth goes dry when little rumples of what's left from a torn out page, falls into my lap. 

I close the book with a slam and throw it to the floor with a smile – Refusing to acknowledge it as I just mutter, "W-Well, mines a lot more _cluttered_ than your home." 

I brush away the little pieces of paper from my lap quickly. Surely, he hadn't torn out a page from my notebook, that's just a little excessive... Maybe, I am just nervously trying to find anything to keep my devotion from creeping back to him and the rumples from the binding are just from the multiple pages I would tear from it in frustration. _That had to be it._

"I don't mind," Mr. Ren says, then sitting on the edge of the bed with me, flicking the set of keys to the side and then leaning in to fan a hot breath on my cold face. He stares at me deeply and in the gaze, I know that he is holding all those passionate intentions he possesses so painfully, as if he constantly needs to relieve the tension in his groin or else he will turn into a vicious rage.

But what he says next, has the ability to shun away all of my previous worries. Swiping them out of the tension, only to replace it with something much more tangible. Kylo swallows roughly as he begins to close the distance between us, "Your surroundings only smudge in the midst of my gravitation to you."

His lips brush mine. Not innocently, like a tease but not yet making their home among my own. I want to pull away before I lose myself but I can't seem to, so I only slam into his hot softness. My senses have been seduced and I can no longer think straight and instantaneously, his taste floods my senses, threatening to clash with my sudden idea that he had stolen both my poem and more, but now... He is nothing but a thief to my elation.

My heart almost lurches its way through my chest and bleeds a stain amongst the sheets between us with my desire as they begin to rustle in the silence as he leans into me, but suddenly, I place my hands against his toned chest and pull away.

I bite my bottom lip to suppress my nervous breathing, eyes everywhere but his, which I could feel staring so deeply that they began to burn the apples of my cheeks. Suddenly, he grabs the hands that were held against his chest with his own and I snap my head up to him finally and give him a small but tired grin, "We've already done this today."

Something shifted beneath that hard exterior at my words and Kylo slumps back. I sit on the end of my bed and look to his face which was no different to that stare he usually gave to me where I have to wonder if he is secretly plotting to kill me or admiring – But then, all at once, he laughs and shakes his head as if I have said the most irresponsible thing that he has ever heard.

He spoke around his chuckling, his eyes warmer than the tiny heater which was tucked into the corner of my room, "Correction –" He said with sarcasm, "When I fucked you against the wall, it was the midday of yesterday... Now it's the dawn of today and so far, I have only tasted your lips once."

 _Tasted your lips once._ I couldn't help but feel as if he was speaking the very words that my mind had so often said, maybe by some twist of fate, he and I were meant for each-other, only we were stuck in seperate circumstances which will forbid it.

I run a tongue across my teeth, knowing he has won as we then stared at each other in an odd way, as if it were a silent argument. Our glances battled each other but we sit frozen, from both humour and excitement. Suddenly, Kylo leans in, just enough that our foreheads rest against each-other and this time, he is the one to forcefully lay his lips into mine, once more.

Sex acts tend to blend together over time, I am well aware of that, but somehow with Mr. Ren, I can never let each way he runs his hands over me or kisses me deeply, ever mix into one hazy memory of his intimacy. 

In my messy dorm on the single bed, which creaks as he leans me into the pillows with his knees on each-side of my waist as I try to fight against his hands which pin me down just so I can hold his lips closer with my own, I am wordlessly and breathtakingly aware that Kylo Ren and his touch, will be something that one day, I will never be able to forget because surely without this rapture to live upon, my life may turn miserable and painful without his soothing musk.

I am so entwined with him right now, I doubt that we could ever untangle our mess of limbs from each other as all our clothes slowly fall to my messy floor, and to be brutally honest, despite how bleak my bedroom may be or how mad it is that he came here at 2AM, I can't help but wish that he and I can just stay here forever, _just this way._

I bite my bottom lip when he finally pulls his mouth away, fully realising the burning flesh of my cheeks as he begins to run his hands along my waist and grope my naked breasts with his large and rough hands – But his touch isn't rough like it usually is. No – In his fingers, his movements are much more slow and savoured, as if he isn't purely running on high adrenaline for once as his long member only stands for attention between my legs, but he doesn't give it any, he only continues to take his time surveying every inch of my skin.

When he does eventually slither his length into my inviting warmth, he only continues to keep that taunting pace and though it is still satisfying and my breath becomes wispy as his too, goes sharp, I can't help but want more as I scratch my nails down his back and cry for more.

Kylo halts a slow thrust in the middle of my moans and leans forward to intently place a kiss on the corner of my mouth, to only pull away with a certain glaze in his eyes, trying to draw me in deeper. And just when he begins to shift his angle and thrust upwards again, I shudder only for him to stop once more and then surprise me by scooping a strong arm beneath the arching of my lower back, turning me around and slamming me roughly, face-first into the single bed.

"Kylo!" I moan as he begins a new, _rougher,_ pace and just when I notice my slip up, it is too late for me to fix it before he swipes a hand across my rear and slaps a welt into the pudgy flesh. I groan at the stinging feeling as he begins to rasp erotic breaths into my ear as he curls over the handprint he had caused, to close the distance and shove his member further into my core.

When the bed begins to creak and hit the wall loudly as our panting floods the small room of thin walls, I hit my fists to the bedhead, looking for something to grasp onto in the power of his thrusts, his shadow casted onto the wall beside the window of silver moonlight.

I arch my back up more to this new position and he only assists in my movements by curling my body into him as I kneel on the bed, my hands falling from the bedhead and curling in the sheets, but even that isn't enough as my mouth widens and whimpers below him, so I reach for my bedside table and accidentally knock the photo-frame which sat upon it, to the floor.

The sound of shattering glass fills the room and threatens to slice our moans in half and just as his thrusts slow to the sound and he stops to look at the damage of the shattered glass upon my floor, I cry out and wave my hand behind my back to grasp back his attention, "It's okay!" I say, my voice laced with a certain, lustful rasp as I buck myself further into him, "Just don't stop!"

He doesn't, for this is what he _truely,_ came for.

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, biting it roughly as he kept the pace quicker than it had ever been before. My pupils, lust blown and going wide as I hung onto the corner of my bedside table whilst his hands only curled into my hips, his fingers most-likely bruising as he embedded them into the flesh harshly.

"Look at you –" He practically groaned from behind me, "My _young_ sweetheart, so wrecked beneath me."

A moan of desperation fell from my lips, raspy from the way I screamed his name like it was an oath to my secret affair, "Mr. Ren!" I panted, my eyes becoming hooded as I felt the tight cling of my womb, ready for release any minute now. 

With white knuckles hanging on for dear life and legs trembling as they struggled to keep my own weight up, Kylo Ren laughed at the sight of me so unravelled, despite the redness of his hot lips and the sweat beading at his hairline and trickling down his toned chest, which shined whiter than the moon in its subtle glow.

He hummed behind me, his words slightly groggy as he began to feel the tugging of a relief building as he throbbed inside me, "I wonder what your neighbours are thinking?"

I only groaned louder for I secretly knew that nobody lived in the room to the right and on the left, the girl practically lived with her boyfriend, off-campus. 

He bit his bottom lip as he pumped himself a little faster into me and I whimpered and clenched around him, feeling the one long vein that ran along the underside of his length. 

Soon enough, I began to quiver and quake beneath him and my throat clogs with a broken moan when he thrusts up and into me for one last time before releasing. Rolling his eyes into the back of his head when I do the same, Mr. Ren begins grazing circles on my hips with his sensual fingers which twitched as the thrill began to slope.

It takes a long moment until we both feel like we can breathe again and as he pulls out with a slow drag, the rest of his body falls limp as he curls me into his chest and turns me back over and into his arms. With our breathing heavy, his warmth sends me into a heady trance, one that doesn't end until our bodies are still once more with the occasional twitch. I let my head rest upon his chest and listen to every thud of my Professor's heart behind the thick muscle, until twenty minutes later, when I only watch him with tired eyes as he begins to get dressed again. 

He tip-toes around the shattered glass of the picture-frame, and when his shoes are back on, he kicks the glass into a pile and picks up the glossed photo to hold it in his eye-line. I watch with a trance, the way his eyebrows furrow and when he flips the photo around, he asks, "Is this your Mother?" 

I smile against the folding of my arms as I laid on my chest after he had pulled the blanket over my lower back to stop the icy chill of his departure, ricocheting upon my dainty flesh.

My body feels absolutely limp and my smile must look as lagged and drunk as I presume as I take in the sight of the photo of myself and my parents, years ago, where we were nothing but a happy memory of an unbroken family – But now, we resemble nothing more than the shards by Kylo's feet.

I sigh, "Yeah –"

He hums and turns the photo back to his own eyes, "You look like her."

I chuckle and turn back over and onto my back, pulling the blanket up to cover my chest as I reposition myself to sit against the bedhead, "Thank goodness for that." I roll my eyes. 

Kylo glances away from the photo and back to me and my cheeks of pure crimson in the pale night's light, "Not a fan of your Father?" He asks, tilting his head with uncertainty, "He's an exceptional Chancellor."

My stomach swirls with a pensive burden and I bite my cheek as hard as I can, but it doesn't stop me from saying with a hatred laced tone, "Yeah – But a deadbeat Dad."

Kylo tuts but laughs low to himself as he places the picture back on my bedside table, "Ah. I understand it all now..." He turns back to me with that smirk he always gave me, though I could never tell what it could result in with his constant mood swings. 

He seems to chew the inside of his own mouth for a second, as if he is biting away his revelation, but the gleam in his eyes is too bright so he caves in the illumination and chimes with a knowing tone, "You've got daddy issues."

I sit up further and my mouth falls but still twitches up in fake offence as I hold the blanket closer to my chest, "I do not!" I protest lightly, then shaking my head when he raises an eyebrow for me to elaborate, "No. It's just... I haven't been close to my Father since –"

"Since when?" He cut me off, already knowing that I wasn't going to finish my sentence without his brooding stare to force me to.

I sigh and knit my eyebrows together, "Since he cheated on my Mother." I explain as he sits on the side of my bed and lays a comforting hand upon my covered thigh.

I couldn't believe that he and I, were actually talking about something other than sex or school for once – But why did it have to be about my cheating Father? The world works in twisted ways.

Kylo still keeps his smirk upon his handsome face, but his voice falls softer as he next says, "The woman must have resembled Aphrodite for him to cheat on the beauty of your Mother."

I shake my head and crease my nose up, not even paying attention to what he had said and only focusing on the first half, which most of my hatred burned for, "That or some lousy assistant." I practically spat.

"He cheated on you Mother with his secretary?" He suddenly asked, obviously taken aback, "Which one, the blonde one who works in the office now?"

I recall the woman from the office on the night I had to go and get my Father to open the lock of my door, and the way she had over-glossed her soft lips and curled her blonde hair neatly. She could be Rachel Mathews' twin from the way her shoulders were held so confidently and her voice carried by such beauty, but even though I held some stigma for both of those blondes, I truely didn't know if that secretary was the one who had an affair with my Father.

"I'm not sure who it was." I answer slowly, the air smelling of prominent sex as the tension only falls into one much more laced with sudden sobriety, "It could have been her, but it happened years ago. I only found out about it when I was eighteen."

My Professor's hand only continues to rub my thigh above the thick material of my blanket as he glares to the threads as if he is trying to understand and place a timeline in his own head of all he reasons for my melancholy.

"And the time that has passed, hasn't healed the pain?" He softly asks, meeting my eyes again.

I shake my head. 

"No and it never will heal. He's a cheater who fell into a fantasy whilst his reality sat at home waiting for him to snap out of it..." I whisper, suddenly feeling as if I could trust him despite the fact that I have only known him for a short while and in that time slot, we had only filled our conversations with our passionate cries.

I continue, "And even when that fantasy crashed around him and the truth was out there, neither my Mother nor him will ever courageously admit to his destructive behaviour. We all just tip-toe around what had happened instead of cultivating his traitorous intents – My Mother won't just simply divorce him because she is too gripped onto the idea of who he once was, instead of who he is."

When Kylo reaches out and holds onto my hands, is when I realise that they were nervously clawing at the material that I clung to my chest and despite the fact that the blanket fell to my waist, leaving my breasts bare for him to flicker his eyes upon, he only glanced once before lacing his fingers between mine, in my own lap.

He sighs, "Well, love can grow where loyalty is buried, but it only dies where the trust is betrayed." Kylo says, the teacher in him, really showing – Or maybe, that was his maturity, "I am certain that your Father will one day realise all his mistakes and certainly have to pay for them."

I roll my eyes but give him a thankful grin, "I can only hope so."

He returns the grin of mine, no longer lapping his pale features with his dangerous smirk and as Lolita sits back in its spot upon my bookshelf, I can't help but choose to ignore the similarities between myself and Lolita and Kylo with her lover, Humbert.

Especially when he asks with a warm tone upon my single bed, in the middle of my icy dorm-room,

_"Sweetheart? What are you doing tomorrow after class?"_


	16. FIFTEEN

The rain had returned to perish the devotion between his heart and mine from this far in such a public setting. It was a grey day once again in New York – Clouds covering the sky with the possibility of striking lightening along with the pellets of water which thrash their way to the college grounds and down my bare legs as I walked to class in another _summer_ dress.

But it wasn't like I was truely paying attention to the weather. _Not when he was around._

Glued to my seat even in the late evening beneath a stormy seduction, where my classmates were terminally zoned out, focused on the final ten minutes which counted down with every tantalising, tick of the clock – They await the end of the lesson, whilst I only find enjoyment from the way the Professor teaches, as if he is speaking omens, only I do not pay attention to what he speaks, only the way his lips move as he does so.

I sit closer than I previously did, back in my humble spot behind the golden hair of Rachel Mathews who always sits in the front row with her nameless friend by her side. I glare at her locks and the whispering hush she gives to the girl beside her – _Is she talking about Professor Ren?_ I can't help the bubbling of jealousy, even though in this out of focus classroom, he and I are somehow, eye to eye – He spares me little glances, here and there, and I relish in dangers which sit in the browns. 

Today when I entered his classroom in a dress that particularly accentuated my curves, I could have sworn that I heard him groan. But understandably, he never did anything more than cast a lingering glance my way.

 _God –_ He must have taken his time when he moulded Kylo Ren. 

Mr. Ren wasn't a male model but he should have been, or at least he should have been the muse for the product that sculptors hacked away at, just to get the final result of the perfect male-specimen immortalised by marble. The lush black hair he groomed so carefree had a rippling quality, and his prominent nose should have been a blemish but it only eventuated and complemented his prominent cheekbones.

Professor Ren is handsome in an understated way, his tense jaw and broad shoulders spoke of strength. He possessed a latent, leonine power and always walked with purpose and authority.

Today he wore the usual attire, a tight-fitted formal shirt and dress pants which were clad around his thighs of pure muscle. 

"– Therefor, Bram Stoker's, Dracula – Is more so, _faintly_ themed around the revelation of a vampire, but the whole novel is just like anything else..." His rough and deep voice cascaded over and around the melancholy classroom as he held the novel in one of his large hands. 

I swallowed and flicked my gaze away from him as the scarlet began to rise upon my skin as I noticed his eyes linger upon me when he said the last word of his next sentence.

"It's just another story about death, lies and _sex."_

Rachel Mathews' turns to whisper another round to the girl beside her, but despite my jealousy, who could truely blame the blonde woman? 

I had tried to pretend that I wasn't one of them before, an obsessive girl with a crush – But his charm was undeniable, who else could make the class so sensual when talking about a classic novel? Kylo Ren had multiple talents in the bed, but his ultimate strength was pulling attention to his glorious beaconing. _  
_

Even when I refrain my attention away from him and to my blank page, he's all I can think about. I swirl my marking pen upon the white sheet, but all I can see in the tendrils of red is the same shade of his lips after my own had abused them last night in my dorm.

Excitement tingles in my limbs and pricks the hair along my skin to a standstill – It was bewildering to me that he had practically asked me on a date, is that what it could be considered to be? Mr. Ren had asked me what I was doing after class and although I know that he will fill my empty schedule with his wide girth and abusive kisses, I still bite back the stretch of an eager smile.

That is, until it falls completely when there is a subtle knock on the door and in walks my Father.

With a nonchalant nod, that's how he says his first greeting to me this week – I suppose it should slightly sting, but I guess that's what I get for laying my punches and constantly hurting him in just the same way as he had hurt my Mother and I. 

It is a well-known fact by everybody that education has an important place in our life and I recall the day I had moved into my dorm room, and the girl who once lived in the empty dorm next-door, _before she dropped out,_ had said that I must be so lucky to have my Father as the Chancellor. I scoffed then and I refrain from scoffing now as he begins to talk, taking the limelight away from Kylo Ren – If only that dorm-girl and everyone else who had a similar opinion, knew that there are always some undeniable facts when it comes to the absolute negatives of my situation. 

I grit my teeth together and curl my hand around my marking pen, the red ink scratching upon my page as if it is the editing tool to my internal analysing of Harvey – _My Father._

First, he was a cheating asshole _– Tick._ Secondly, He'd rather spend his time, burrowing behind his desk than facing his actions _– Tick. Tick._ Thirdly, he may have been great at teaching a whole classroom from a textbook and chalkboard, but he was never a good parent who taught me how to grow with love _– Tick. Tick. Tick._

He talks with a different tone to the one he speaks with at home, although, this one is much more confident as he begins to tell the class about some competition where participating students of multiple colleges can send off their best poetry to get an internship after college at at publishing house in New York. It sounds interesting and intriguing – That is, if I were able to write or even had the time to create something without the pressure of passing this course.

Though, I must admit that I can't help but picture my Mother's reaction if I ever, in the slightest inkling, had a chance at winning – I might suppose it could give her hope to write again, but that's just a fragment of my wildest dream, so I merely blank out his grand speech until he walks out of the room and Kylo's deep tone calms my frazzled nerves back down. 

After spending an hour, clamping my dress down with my fists and just loitering around the damp courtyards beneath the shade as my legs shook in the wind, waiting for the student's to eventually bleed out of sight – I had sprinted across the street before a prying eye captured me buckling myself in the passenger-side of Kylo Ren's car, where his hand then leaned across the console to sit upon my cold thigh which bounced with sudden nerves. 

His sleek car smelt of rich leather but most importantly, _of him_ – I sat beside my Professor, smothered by the awkward tension in the silence as he drove along New York's cemented veins, but he didn't seem to mind the quiet. 

Kylo Ren was always so patient, so long as it didn't involve his irritation at the fact that I was still clothed whilst his fingers twitched by his sides to tear the material off my burning flesh – But even now, as the roads began to clog in a stop-start fashion of peek hour, he merely cracked open his window, bathed in the putrid fumes and tapped his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of the radio, whilst his other hand only curled further into the parting of my thighs. 

Slight rain drizzled through the opening slit of his tinted window, dampening his dark hair slightly and I couldn't help but think that he only kept it open to push some of the chilly wind onto the scarlet of my torched cheeks. 

The traffic even snaked it's way to the bridge along the way to his house, which sat on the edge of the city and I sighed with contempt as I glanced out from my own window, after plucking enough courage to drop my hands to where his sat in my lap, interlocking my fingers with his long ones and giving them an anxious squeeze. 

It wasn't until the scream of sirens from behind that the traffic began to merge like the parting in a sea, for an ambulance to drive rapidly through the traffic – He finally broke the dreaded silence.

"What did you think about that competition?" 

Kylo Ren asked with his rich and manly voice, the one that lured me in that first time he had spoken before my gaze even met his at the front of the classroom. 

I swiftly turned back to him and it never ceased to amaze me, how I was always struck harshly by his handsomeness. With that sharp jaw, splatter of graceful freckles, pale flesh but dark eyes, my hazy vision tunnelled until it was black on the edges, but he was the focus in the middle. 

"Oh – That thing?" I shook my head and laughed over, "Ah... I don't think that I will participate."

After letting the ambulance pass and merging back into the road, the traffic began to quicken as he took a quick glance at me, showing me the vast depth of his sudden perplexing. 

"What?" He said, obviously taken-aback, "Why not?"

His words bring on a fit of brisk laughter – The creases beside my ease folding in as I shake my head to him again, "Surely, you have an idea?" I said in a light tone, rolling my eyes and returning the favour of rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb, "I am already tremendously failing. What's the point of even embarrassing myself in-front of a publishing house?"

I watch the way his eyebrows furrow in that pensive way they always do but he keeps his gaze interlocked with the flashing of the traffic lights – Kylo sighs, "Hm. It's always worth a shot, you never know..." Suddenly, those lips that I love so dearly, flicker up but he tries to bite back against the victorious smirk, "You might be able to plagiarise a poem and get away with it this time."

I felt my heart speed rapidly to match my hitched breathing and he takes the shock that runs through my blood, as a chance to swap over the positions of our hands so now he is the one brushing my trembling hands, once more.

I run my tongue along my teeth whilst his only presses to his cheek as he adores the way I also fight with myself to not give into his sarcasm, but ultimately, the shift of light in the mood wins. 

"Hey! Don't remind me about that." I slap the back of his wrist with my free hand, smiling brightly to him but my eyes are shifting to fake-scold. 

_Oh –_ How this moment feels so real, so everlastingly clingy to the idea that this could have been our relationship if we weren't followed by a ghostly situation of him being my Professor. 

My smile shifts but stays warm upon him, my eyes constantly tearing between the beauty of his distracted eyes or the plush skin of his lips which are so soft and inviting. Mr. Ren was only a breath away from me and I ignorantly prayed to some undeniable but invisible force, that he felt the same way as I did now – Both of our chest's overflowing with light and sparks from the electricity of our longing, but deep down, I knew my prayers were falling upon deaf ears, for Kylo Ren truely, only cared about my body and the adventures I could take him on behind the confining of secret walls and in the mountains of twisted bedsheets. 

If I were anyone else, I would have told them that Kylo Ren was so obviously and ruthlessly, using me, but in my own defence, I was happy here, I was contempt with the hidden walls of our illicit relationship. Though, my heart may want more, my desire to be a willing participant in a fantasy of his, was strong. I can't describe the happinesses in my bones, every-time he slid the lace off my body and especially, when his large and toned body met mine.

The whole, messed-up situation, reminds me of the very quote that Kylo had read in-front of the class today, from the novel in his hands – Dracula.

_"I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air."_

Only, my sea was the secret glances from his oceanic eyes of pure gold and our castles only tower where nobody can truely see them – Though, our longing twines around the broken cobblestone of my tower, swirling and tightly knotting around the bottom and all the way to the top, where it plants a mere rose for me to pluck the petals from and throw back down to the low grounds, asking the scarlet petal if he loves me, or loves me not. 

My Professor who always tore through my mind, shrugged, "Still – Maybe, once you're finished with all your assignments and that poem you already, still owe me..." He raises his brows and turns to me to add emphasis to his words before turning back to the road, "I could help you think of something to submit."

I gasp and my stomach does an almighty flip, turning all my blood along with it. 

"You'd help me?" I asked in a surprised tone, "Isn't that also considered cheating?"

He chuckles low and his teeth gleam with that gorgeous smile of his, which often clashed against his dominating demeanour.

He squeezes my hand with certainty, "Not if it's only your name written at the top."

As the surroundings whip around us as he drives, slightly over the limit in the new free-range of a less built up road, I am completely whiplashed with astonishment. I laugh nervously for a second, contorting my features in a way which awaited his pestering smile to grow, insuring that Mr. Ren was surely joking – But my laughter only stilled when I realised he wasn't, which suddenly, stung something inside my heart, awake. 

The emotion thrashes inside me violently, but layers the storm somehow, softly. It's a staggering feeling but it arrives with such a demand, leaving me utterly stunned, shocked and unsettled with the flourishing of my admiration. And it doesn't help when he only adds more seeds into my tortured soil, unknowingly blossoming a garden of hope within me – Which I know he will stomp on if he ever found out about the secret roses, I grew for him and only him. 

"I'd like to see you go places." He says warmly with a nod, "I know that deep down, winning would mean something to you, just the same with everyone else in that class."

I shiver a little at the way he utters such divine words only for me to hear in the middle of such a crazy and secretive situation. The rain still throws itself upon the windows and the wipers aren't enough to swash away the redness of my face as his warmth bleeds into me. 

It hurts because I know that he will never be, all mine – One day, Kylo Ren will be nothing but a reminisce of the time when I was adventurous and swayed by passion in the midst of the years where my life basked on melancholy. 

My traitorous mind can't help but compare him to Leo Grey – Like it is some competition or they were going to be formally known as the two burdens of my life. Even with the many months that I spent trying to get over Leo and I's relationship: I struggled, but then Mr. Ren arrived and all my resentment suddenly began to fray and slowly, one by one, my burdened coils were letting go of Leo, for I had finally found someone with such beauty, which had touched me in way's that Leo's could not. 

But although, Leo was never the best boyfriend – _He was still a boyfriend._ Not just some fling, where I was being used for my body but not cradling my open heart in the meantime. 

My surroundings suddenly distract me from the maze of my thoughts when I realise that we are no longer headed for his house, but much further passed it. 

I furrow my brows and turn my face back to him, "Are we not going to your house?"

He shakes his head so casually, "No."

Stumbling over my words, I tear my fingers out of his when I feel the sweat begin to glisten in my palms, "Then, where are we going?" I ask with wide eyes and raised brows.

His face makes no effort to waver as he sighs and moves his hand away from my thigh and back to his steering wheel, "Out."

A lump forms in my throat and unlike any right-minded person would, I don't fret about the possibility that he could be kidnapping me, but I begin to glance around to find a reasoning as to why we are edging out of the city. 

"Out?" I say slowly, _"Out where?_ You do realise that if anyone sees u–"

Glancing back to me and pulling all the gravity into the halo around his dark eyes, he chuckles low, to which even the bass that subtly vibrates through his speakers, could resemble. 

"Calm down, sweetheart." He practically purrs, "Nobody will see us. What college student is driving an hour away just to see a movie?"

He worded his reply to me very carefully, but the smirk he gained still threw me off my course. 

"We're going to the cinema?" I chimed. 

Although, I was mentally trying to shush the flutter of butterflies which leaped out of the bloody opening of my heart, they only danced and tickled every fibre of my being when he laughed against the rain and threatened to brighten up the grey of New York's cloudy skies as he turned back to me and said in a sarcastic tone, 

_"That's where people go to watch movies, is it not?"_

And that's exactly what lead us here. In the dim lighting of a completely empty cinema, where the silence lingers around the jittering of my legs and the crackling of our forgotten, untouched bag of popcorn which only sits as a barrier between us. 

We laughed about it initially, the fact that there were truely no movies showing at a time like this. None other than a sloppy rom-com, which neither of us really wanted to watch but I felt guilty that he had already driven an hour to get here, so I pretended that I had read good reviews about it – But now that the advertisements had finished and the lights turned off, after two silhouettes of girls had rushed in with hushed giggles and sat four rows in front of us, I was beginning to sink in my seat when the main character started the scene by sitting in a bleak classroom. 

Twenty minutes into it and I begin to feel the boredom settle upon my bones and hear it in his heavy sighs beside me, every-time the love interest tried to woo the girl with flowers or kind gestures, to which she always rolled her eyes at. 

But then suddenly, I feel him lean into me, using the armrest between us as support, until he decides to just flick it up and into the slot between our chairs. 

"Sweetheart?" He slid his arm around my shoulders and gave me a once over with a dirty grin, "The reviews were obviously shit." He hushed into my ear, his breath fanning along the skin of my neck.

I stifle my laughter by holding both my hands over my face and shaking my head behind them, before peeking through my fingers and leaning in closer to him, keeping my voice low for the only other people in the cinema.

"I lied." I whispered with an amused smile, "I am so sorry, I honestly thought it at least had a slight chance."

I turn to him in the dark cinema to find his face illuminated by a dark blue hue, in the most generous way, as if the light of the large screen is only playing just so it could subtly touch his perfect face. There's a little part of me which is anxious that he may be upset that he had gone an hour out of his way and that I was wasting his precious time – But the other part of me which holds hope in the gloss of his lips, is so overwhelmed by the fact that he had chosen _himself,_ to take me out and not just to his house so he could bend me over his bed and be able to make those sinful noises that I wish I could make my new-ringtone.

His eyes are already settled upon me when I regain focus back from the thievery of my own thoughts and anxieties, and he seems to notice when I shift back to reality as he smirks and leans in closer. 

"It doesn't matter anyway –" He rasped low and away from the ears of the girls in-front, who though I cannot see them, I could tell by their low gasps, that they were fully indulging on the love-interest's, charming, blue eyes.

I swallow meekly when his musk hits my senses and clouds my conscience. He chuckles just as his face nears the tender flesh where he'd always burrow his lips upon my neck, although before that tasteful mouth layers upon my goosebumps, it merely brushes them as he hums, "I wasn't intending to watch."

I suck a sharp breath inwards when I feel the heat of his tongue, swipe along my skin, "Y-You never know..." I stutter, suddenly nervous of one of the girls turning around, "The movie might get better?"

But it couldn't get any better than this and he knew that too as his large hand began to dance around the flesh of my thighs – It was dimwitted to wear a dress because it was the middle of winter, but I knew his hands would always be there to warm me tonight. I had rummaged through the deepest depths of my drawers to find the black laced underwear, which I now wore under a loose-fitting white sundress, pure and virginal like a gothic heroine, but dark and lascivious underneath.

I sink in my seat and twist my hand loosely into his hair, keeping him in the crook of my neck as he chuckles with heat, "It's not going to get any better..." His fingers traced the flowery lining of my underwear, making me buck to his touch, "We might as well take advantage of the dark room."

Giving in, I mewled quietly as the characters on the screen began to wail at a party, and Kylo took that as a signal to pull me closer and suck upon my neck, nibbling slightly upon the violent violet he had just made – _My personal Dracula._

My cheeks flushed and burned all the way down my chest and to where his fingers grazed upon the lace of my underwear. Kylo had slid his arm behind the arch of my back to slowly pull me in closer as his teeth now lightly scratched along my jaw and to my earlobe. 

With a sharp gaze set straight ahead, I stared not at the movie, but at the girl's heads in the fourth row, ensuring that none of them were watching the way my confidence began to build as I slid my own hand under his shirt and to his belt.

He was already hard for attention beneath his tight pants, but just as I slipped my fingers beneath the band of his pants, he tore his fingers away from my own underwear, to pull my hand back to his chest – Keeping my fingers sprawled across the tensed muscles. 

Kylo Ren pulled back for air and found me staring at him unwavering, his face indecipherable. He was betrayed only by the flush obvious on his cheeks and his blown pupils which I presumed, took up all of the gorgeous brown of his eyes, but in this dim lighting, I couldn't truely tell – So his eyes looked black in the dark of the theatre, almost demonic and when he gave me that smirk of his, I felt a shiver run down my spine, clashing with the heat of my passionate veins.

Professor Ren leaned in and pressed his lips back to my ear – And he whispered the same thing that he casually said with a shrug before, as I asked if we should get popcorn. 

_"Tonight's only for you."_

But that popcorn bag was now sprawled on the floor and my anxiety of being watched, seemed to fly out of my blood and splatter upon the movie screen, which neither of us payed attention to as I bite back a moan and his fingers return to my heated core, where the arousal began to sink through the lace.

I shuddered as I nodded hurriedly, thrusting myself into his hand, which groped me so tenderly. I felt his other hand pull me somehow, impossibly closer to him and he practically leaned across me as the dress began to bunch up around my thighs in the pale luminescence. 

My eyes widen as his finger pushes my underwear to the side as if it had no purpose and immediately brushes my bundle of nerves with a circling thumb, to which all the desire in my system seem to electrify as if he truely had all the static of my veins held hostage with his experienced touch.

My chin trembled in an effort to remain silent as I kept my gaze locked with the screen now, whilst his eyes burned the flesh upon my cheeks as he watched me secretly unravel. I dipped a trembling hand to wrap around his wrist, but he didn't stop his movements when he pushed two fingers into my inviting entrance.

My foot kicked out involuntarily and sends the forgotten popcorn bag to rumple loudly, but none of the girls turn yet to watch the way my mouth widens and my eyes roll to the back of my head – They must have assumed that we were merely digging into the bottom of the bag to get the best and crispest kernels as the main character just kissed her love interest for the first time. 

_I whimper._

"Good girl." He cooed as his check pressed into mine, "Remember to keep quiet, otherwise we will get _caught."_ _  
_

With an internalised groan, I nod my head, pursed my lips shut and close my eyes. My nails dig into Mr. Ren's wrist as he quickened his pace and curled his fingers around, touching the one spot that would usually have me squirming, but unlike usual in the confining of our privacy, I couldn't scream out and beg for him to go faster because it would draw only us an audience.

 _Caught –_ That simple word is the only thing that is keeping me loosely hanging onto the trepidation that follows me everywhere. I once feared things like, failing college, my Father, spiders – But now the only thing I fear is being caught, for I would lose Kylo Ren. 

And just when he could tell that I was close to climaxing, from the shaking of my legs and the hurtful grip upon him, his fingers slipped back out of me – Leaving me empty and cold, with only a burrowing yearning for more, building in my guts.

I turn to him and my eyes are pleading for more but the colour around my dilated pupils is secretly scolding him for letting me go – I roll them to the back of my head as my breathing spins erratically behind my ribs, which only burn as I try to keep my panting quiet. 

But suddenly, his hands slide off my skin and the popcorn kernels upon the floor, smeared as he sunk to his knees – Cracking them loudly and crunching them violently as his head sunk below my dress and his lips attached to my sweetness. 

My eyes shot open and I gasped loudly, but some Almighty above must have been watching after me in this unholy moment, for it just reached the plot-twist of the movie because the darkness also reacted in a small round of gasps, coming from the only other individuals. 

I bite my hand to remain quiet as his tongue does wonders, dipping into me and then swirling over what makes me truely buck up into him, pushing his prominent nose future into me. At the sensation of fingers curling in his hair, his pace quickened, throwing me over the edge of passion and to something much more extreme with the hot pleasuring mouth of his.

The credits begin to roll as my nails dig and scratch for the arm rest which he had tucked back into place and I nearly throw myself out of the chair as I slam it back into place and arch my back as the build up begins to scorch my insides with extreme pleasure.

Those butterflies of mine flutter their wings upon my heart as I silently get that climax that he had thieved off me from before but as he wipes his mouth as if he had just eaten a meal of pure delicacies, he moves back into his chair just before the movie finishes, brushing off the smashed popcorn from his knees and then turning back to me. 

His eyes grow a golden brown at my aroused smile, and I melt into his honey hues. What was once only a handful of butterflies is now an army and their numbers only grow when he starts to lean in close again, and my lips begin to tingle when they yearn to be placed upon his own. 

I can hear the girls in-front begin to whisper about how much they loved the movie as they rustle their bags in preparation to leave and I merely giggle upon his face when I realise that I have no real idea as to what happened in the movie – But they had no idea what had happened, four rows away from them.

Within a split second, our mouths were already clashing. Kylo's hands of pure softness but rough with a manly need, rise above my own hands and make their way to my cheeks, holding me in place as we both closed our eyes and kissed harder.

But as the lights turn back on, lightening up the scarlet fever of my features as Mr. Ren breaks away from my mouth to lean in and whisper something sinful into my ear – I can't help but to fade away from the voice that usually draws me in, because all the air seems to warp around me as my drunk eyes find the mess of blonde curls, four seats ahead, to which the face beneath it all, turns around with wide eyes of astounded blue.

My mind anchored in time and space – Everything else forgotten. Now, all my heart of lost butterflies, can do is beat cold blood around my veins in a hope that the storm will end as the flutters of wings, leave in the wintry fear that freezes my body completely. 

All my mind can do is plan the most logical path to another safety but the only thing that I can come up with is hiding behind his hand which moves to my cheek – But that only makes matters worse as my eyes stay layered on her and her's on me. 

Mr. Ren hasn't seen those blue orbs yet, and he didn't even notice as the passion sunk in the tension and replaced the crimson of my cheeks with a pale set of shocked features as I looked into the eyes of a watcher and I realised all at once, that my biggest fear had suddenly, come true. 

We had been caught. 

_We had been caught by Rachel Mathews._


	17. SIXTEEN

I could feel my world burning and crashing down, all with one look in the icy capturing of Rachel Mathews' gaze. _She knows – She knows!_ The alarm was ringing in the back of my mind as the smoke detectors rang and the weak sprinklers behind the gloss of my eyes, tried to calm my panicked blaze that was setting my hope and lust alight.

Mr. Ren clasped his hand into mine, his fingers holding me tightly against him as he hasn't yet realise what was happening inside of me nor the sparks that were catching fire among our coiled up secrecy.

My garden of roses that I grew for him were nothing but ash and my tower above was crumpling into nothing but debris.

We had been practically caught in the act. My face was burning and the back of my neck began to sweat as I could even smell the little glowing embers and the smoke which only came to smother me with anxiety – My sexual endeavour had ended all too quickly. What was once, only a smaller flicker of a candlelight which I would leave out for him to blow out in the darkest of nights, had dangerously caught fire around us. All because of her – Rachel Mathews, who looked at us as if there wasn't a metaphorical bonfire around us but instead, strewn around clothes as if she had captured us entangled – Her eyes widening even larger as Kylo kisses my temple and whispers,

"Let's get going."

Our illicit affair had abruptly ended with one prying eye but he hadn't caught sight of it yet. I still kept my own wide eyes locked onto the burning embers which cascaded around us as my senses honed out of the world around us whilst we walked out of the theatre – Not before Rachel Mathews and her nameless friend, lift their hoods over their heads and walk out before us.

Like in many of the novels upon my dusty bookshelf back home, this felt like the final moment where the main character knows that they are doomed and a necklace of rope is their fate of a downfall – But unlike them, I wasn't accepting my twist for instead, I fought against it as I watched the back of my own Grim's head, where beneath the coat was a waterfall of tousled, blonde hair.

She was like a hooded vail walking in-front of me, leading me to where despair and a life fuelled by uncertain lies, in her cruel, polished hands – I want to tackle her to the ground, tear my fingers out of Mr. Ren's interlocking and scratch what she had seen out of her own mind.

I was utterly panicking beneath the surface but I was keeping the wreck beneath a small smile but wide, glazed eyes – Kylo Ren had yet to notice what terrors were beneath those hoods in-front of us, and somehow, that was the only thing that was keeping me holding on to my spare sanity – If Mr. Ren finds out that one of his own students had seen us, then it truely is final. No longer will he be my escape as I will be his.

It reminds me of middle school, where I was often trapped against my locker face-first, my nose mashed as my bully held her hand to the back of my head. I might have had a chance at withstanding her force if only I could do something to centre myself against her taunts, something to release my emotions because my Mother often told me that if they throw the first punch, you blow the last – And yet, I never had the nerve to fight back.

Rachel Mathews' eyes had thrown the first punch and her second hit was surely coming soon, but I couldn't move even now, I was frozen in my mind just the same as I was, all those years ago against the rusty locker-doors.

My heart is beating so fast that it is churning my stomach with every surge of my torched blood. The toxicity of my actions is building like an unstoppable ring of fire, the same heat as the one that trickles around Kylo and I, but now its in the pit of my guts. I cannot concentrate on anything else other than the back of her black coat.

I have to throw the last punch – I have to fix this mess but all I can do is continue to make matters worse as my palms begin to sweat in the grip of my Professor's – But when Rachel Mathews' and her hooded friend, turn into the ladies restroom, I know the tiled squares of the bathroom will become the wrestling ring of my consequence as Rachel turns ever-so-slightly, to make eye-contact once more before turning inside.

I stop in my tracks and tug on Kylo's hand with a nervous smile. He turns and raises an eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" He asks and I nod almost too quickly.

I want to throw myself to his feet, curl my hands around his knees and sob into the material above his muscly thigh. It's torturous that I am sweating beneath the warmth of the flame that will capture our secrecy and light it up for the rest of New York to see, but I know that if I tell him, he will jump to the gun and tear apart any favours that point to our affair.

Mr. Ren, though always brooding and cool, would panic more than I ever could – He would drop me faster than his heartbeat would fall.

My smile almost hurts to forge, but he doesn't seem to notice the tightness of my lips that he loves so dearly, "Yeah – I just have to use the restroom." I say, my hands jittery as I hand him my purse, "Mind waiting?"

He nods causally and shrugs as he takes the purse with both of his hands and makes his way over to the wall to the right, where he says that he will wait – And he does, after he slips his phone out of his back pocket and begins typing away on it.

My breath is sharp in my chest but I force my feet to move beneath the weight of my conscience. As I walk into the restroom, my fear is shifting in my mind, twisting my perception to believe that it must be where the ruins of my fate dies.

I can picture the tiles all shattered around her leather boots, the sinks cracked and the water from the rotting taps, leaking into the holes as the mirrors above are all tarnished, but sparkle as that same fire that burnt around me in the theatre, takes the place of tiles, aflame.

But turning into the room, it was nothing like what I imagined, totally normal and crisp. The tiles were scrupulously clean, the sinks and basins as much of a brilliant white as my summer dress or the hand-towels which hang from the dispensers – The mirrors, squeaky clean, although, the monster that caused all of my anxiety, was wasting the reflection as she sharpened her teeth and puckered her glossed lips.

I could feel all the warmth in my skin flee and I know my flesh is pale and clammy in the overwhelming fear that begins to make a rocking chair out of my soul. My pulse is swaying strongly and my breathing is creaking its way up my throat as my words dry upon my twisted tongue, leaving me falling silent behind the two girls in the mirror, who were in my Literature course. 

Losing a secrecy that was once tied to Mr. Ren and I like a red thread, I replace my lost hope for vigour as something much more tangible wraps around me. The rope around my neck signifying the death of my muse and devotion, but I am only gagging on bleach-blonde locks.

I know Rachel knows that I am behind her, but she makes a point out of it as she smacks her mouth and chimes into the mirror to her friend's reflection, "Who would have thought that it would be the Chancellor's daughter to be the one to bang Mr. Sexy?"

Her friend raises her eyes with a small smirk, but as Rachel's eyes fall back onto me in the reflection, the blonde girl gasps with a wide smile and turns around, leaning against the vanity.

"Oh, hey! Enjoy the movie?" She said, throwing her locks of gold over her shoulder as she tilted her hand and then slanted her eyes, "Or were you too preoccupied on the real sight to behold?"

As she holds her lipstick gloss-tube to her mouth and bites on the cap to hide her smirk, I felt the terror begin to replace my blood with warm cement that hasn't yet dried as it is injected into my veins. Tension grew in my contorted face and limbs, my mind replaying my last memories, and yet all of them were just from today.

"Rachel." I swallow, but she cuts me off before I can even begin to fall to my knees and plead for a treaty of peace without insolence.

"I must say... I really didn't expect this from you." She chimes cruelly and as her friend turns around, I glance to her as Rachel does too and says, "Did you expect this?"

The girl stood with a hip jutted to one side, her right arm draped across her slender body, clasping the elbow opposite. Her head lolled down to one shoulder casting her black hair onto the faded t-shirt that was two sizes too big. She had dark skin and deep brown eyes, which somehow, even when compared to the icy blue's of Rachel's, this girl's eyes were filled with a verity of paragon.

She's got a certain calmness to her gait and expression, which is also shown clearly as she sighs a deep breath and shrugs, "No, I didn't." She shakes her head and says in a bored tone.

She was clearly so different to Rachel Mathews and yet, they seemed to be inseparable.

I glare at the two girls and shake my head as my fingernails begin to dig into my palms. _Throw the first punch,_ my mind is telling me, but my Mother's voice is quick to stop me.

"You don't even know what you saw." I spit, keeping my fists away but my words are enough to pack a powerful blow, though it seems Rachel only dodges it as she laughs, the sound bouncing off the tiles and mirrors with a horrific echo.

I feel like I am drowning and there is no hope of being saved.

The blonde girl tuts, her laughter fading as she gives me a menacing pout, cocking her hip to the side and resting her dainty hand upon it, "It doesn't matter what I saw." She scowls, raising a sharp brow and rolling her eyes, "But I am certain that no good assumptions come from seeing a student so _enclasped_ with her Professor."

Shock isn't an emotion I've ever taken well. Stuck in a suspended moment where my face washed blank with panic, every muscle of my body just froze, but my hands trembled,"Listen, Rachel –" I began, but like in class, Rachel was always the first to interject with a high hand and words fuelled by nothing more than the mere fact that if someone was going to waste the silence, it had to be her own voice that she heard.

"Ah." She stuck a polished finger in my face and motioned the zipping of my lips. Then slowly pulling her finger away, she hummed beneath her breath and leaned further into the marble sinks behind her, "What do you think your Father will do if he found out about you and Mr. Ren?" She asked.

My blood boiled immediately.

"Cut the shit, Rachel." I snapped, "You know exactly what would happen."

Rachel chuckles and runs her tongue over her teeth. "Mhm. Yes, I do." She practically sings as she nods her head, her eyes beaming with a certain excitement within the blue, "I just wanted to make sure that you knew the consequences too."

I furrow my brows as she suddenly leans off the vanity and begins to walk closer to me, the heels of her boots clicking upon the tiles and her purse, swinging in the crook of her arm.

She narrows her eyes at me and gives me a tone laced in hatred, "You know, I always thought that there must have been at least the slightest bit of unfair play involved with you – And Juno and I, always assumed that it would be because of your Father."

I had never assumed that Rachel Mathews' had ever disliked me – And before Mr. Ren arrived, I never cared so much for her to even contemplate whether I disliked her or not. Could it be possible that she was jealous of my position? Was she being so cruel and fuelled by loathing because she wished it was her in the cinema with the Professor that she eyed all day in class?

She throws her head back and rolls her eyes as the curls of her blonde hair trickle down her coat, "But we must say, that we never could have even imagined it would be because you were _fucking_ Mr. Ren."

Her nameless friend – Who I now know the name of, Juno – Shrugs casually, still leaning cooly against the sinks, "– Even if he does always stare at you in class, we never thought that it was anything more than that." She sighs, as if she doesn't truely care about what we speak about right now.

_I hate them. I utterly hate them._

Why did it have to be them to see us? Why was it Rachel Mathews' who saw the very thing that I needed to keep as a secret?

I was a tsunami of emotions that never mixed but clashed against each-other, fighting to be at the forefront of my mind. I was nothing but a vein full of intense sadness, fear and grief – All attached to Kylo Ren like a coiled up string, for I had exposed the one thing I had to keep hidden in order to keep him in the meantime.

"Look – I promise that I won't even look at Mr. Ren ever again," I shake my head as the tears begin to build, "Just, please... Don't tell anyone about what you saw, I need to stay in this course."

I feel like that scrawny girl back in middle school again – The girl with an uncertain future and a world of torture awaiting behind the gates of the school-yard, and Rachel Mathews' truely is my bully as she says,

"And I need a lot of things too." She flicks her hair over her shoulder and meets my height as we stand head-to-head, and if she lays the first punch, I swear that I will finish it. But instead of falling to violence, she swallows roughly and sighs onto my face, "That's why I think we can make deal... To make us all happy, _yes?"_

_A deal?_

My mind was a surging perplexity, whilst her words hit my burning skin like a thousand of needle pricks being thrown against me. I blink in shock, my perception distorted. When the words leap through my throat, my heart threatens to also leap through the cage of rib and splatter to the floor beyond my feet. I hold my breath behind pursed lips to steel myself against the gales of traitorous-settlement that is to come, "What sort of deal?" I ask slowly, my words as uncertain as my eyes are as I gaze to her with weary.

Her sharp jaw is locked tight for a second but as she glances to Juno, the darker girl nods only once and it gives Rachel the confidence to continue, "One that ensures that you won't be expelled and that I won't either."

When the silence returns to the dense, little space between us, it gnaws at my insides as Rachel stares through me rather than at me. This silence was poisonous in its nothingness, cruelly underscoring and ripping through my skin and to my clenching heart.

The words were cold. Every word over pronounced, slicing rather than dancing in the space between us. I can only see where this is going... What she is intending...

_"I'm listening...''_

She smiles once more and as the time slows, I can only imagine what Kylo is thinking out there. He must be assuming that I had somehow fallen inside the toilet bowl or something.

"Juno and I, will keep our pretty little mouth's shut so you can continue messing around with the Professor behind locked classroom doors." She explains, "... Only if I win the poem competition and the internship."

A small, sigh of anxiety leaps out of my mouth. Face and defences falling, my mouth becomes agape as my watery eyes enlarged whilst the hairs on the nape of my neck bristled and prickles to laminate my frigid skin. My head shook side to side almost too slight to notice, part tremble and part deliberate.

"I can't do that – It's the publishing house who chooses the best poem out of three different colleges..." I utter slowly, glancing to Juno too and hoping that she will see the complex of what Rachel is asking.

There's no way I am able to do that – There's no possible way I could even get myself to win... Not without Mr. Ren's help, and it's as if the blonde girl has the ability to read my mind, when she speaks next.

"Well, you either write the best poem or you get Mr. Ren or your Father to figure a way to... Cheat the system for you – Well, _secretly me."_

I stand shocked as I stare blankly at her with wide, apprehensive eyes.

She only fills the silence of the cinema bathroom with her voice once more, "Do we have a deal?" She asks me, holding out her hand where red nail-polish gleams upon her long nails – The hand of the dealing devil, _herself,_ "Otherwise, say bye-bye to college and Mr. Re–"

I cut her off, way too quickly.

"Yes." I nod as my own nails dig into my palms painfully.

_I can't lose him._

"What?" She smirked, her blonde brow cocking up as she does so.

The look in my eyes is a flashing beacon that shows I am hurt but all I do is stand petrified under her gaze with my lips quivering. As my breathing hastens, the intense rhythm of my heartbeat undergoes an irregular count, hammering quicker than a lightning bolt as the fear of losing the passion that Mr. Ren erotically gives to me, waves a white flag in the middle of the loath and hatred for the blonde girl in-front of me.

I swallow the rising lump of bile in my throat down, but it only grows in size as I mutter the words she wants to hear, "Yes. We have a deal."

She has the power to ruin everything and she knows it – Her own metaphorical trophy of victory is shining a brighter gold than her hair.

Only hours ago, I presumed that it would be Kylo himself to be the one to ruin what I was slowly and secretly growing for him, but in-fact and all too soon, it was Rachel Mathews' and Juno, who had become the ones to trample upon my gated roses and tall towers.

Her deal was a jumbled mess of twigs and branches to my garden and I was in the centre of all of its twining thorns.

All this time, I had attempted to gate away from Professor Ren's flower cutters, but instead of being the man who couldn't climb my fence, Rachel turned out to be the snake who had slithered into my garden and chewed at my roses and wouldn't stop unless I grew my own for her to feed off instead.

My shoulders are hanging low, when I eventually shake hands with the devil and turn to leave the bathroom before Mr. Ren comes in, himself, to see what has taken so long – But just before I leave the tiled space of melancholy, Juno calls out to me, "Wait – I thought that Mr. Ren was married?"

I roll my eyes, but don't bother to turn back around to the two girls who had ruined my _date night_ with my handsome Professor,

_"He's divorced."_


	18. SEVENTEEN

This night of supposed sexual endeavours and crushing wonders, has somehow turned into quite possibly, the worst date ever. His jaw of porcelain is tight beside me – As tight as his white knuckles which grip around the blue pen in his hand. 

There's a pensive and utterly uncomfortable silence between Kylo and I, as we sit side by side at his dining-room table, hunched over another blank page whilst crumples of others with scribbles etched upon them, cover the impurity.

When he sighs deeply, awaiting me to utter another useless one-liner, I know that he regrets ever offering to help me write a poem for the contest, but I doubt that he had thought that I would take him up on that offer, the moment we made it to his house after the cinema – _But I'm utterly panicking._

My current dilemma was something which was simply, anxiety inducing and I could feel the polished claws of Rachel Mathews, scratching into my nerves and causing scars upon the walls of my defences. 

The silence of the room only adds misery to my situation as I glance out the window which overlooks his long driveway, only to snap my eyes back to the page when Kylo Ren clears his throat – There is a hurricane inside of me and the white of the page, only seems to wash my water into an icy coldness. 

My knee is bouncing beneath the table and my trembling hands are wedged between my thighs, it's as if my tired brain is demanding an energetic expenditure, the same reaction that someone may have after taking heroine or steroids, the need to waste the rhapsody with quick movements – But my veins aren't jittering with rapture, they're collapsing with fear – Fear of Rachel Mathews' telling the whole college about Mr. Ren and I – If I don't get her to win the competition, which will provide her with a head-start in the publishing business. 

I hadn't told Mr. Ren about Rachel's revelation or snooping eye, along with the quiet friend of her's, Juno Steele – Because I knew the moment he found out, he would panic just the same as I am secretly hiding the thrashing of anxious scenarios and threats, so I decided to just go through this terrible battle by myself and hope that he can truely help me – _Rachel Mathews_ , win the poem contest. 

And that idea already sounds hard enough, but mixed with the fact that I can't seem to write for _shit_ – Even without this anxiety upon my shoulders and anchoring down my passion, the page is left empty. 

Everything that I tried to come up with would automatically come out with a dead-end, as if I could only come up with one line and then after that, I was lost with nothing to follow it – And Mr. Ren's frustrations are only getting hotter and hotter. My words are bouncing off him like they were hard rain, but his high degree of Literature, is only a black umbrella which leaves him to only observe the pellets, noticing the dirt in the drops. 

Guilt swirls in my uncertain stomach – He didn't want to help me with a stupid poem, he already had to spend eight hours rolling his eyes at the stupidity of his students, what he truely wanted was to bend me across his bed and relieve himself. 

"What about..." I bite my bottom lip and scrunch my face, "Roses are re–"

"No." Kylo cut me off, "There is _absolutely_ no chance in Hell that you would win with that opening."

He shakes his head and as I slit my eyes to the side to watch him without earning that judging cough once again, I recall exactly why I am doing this right now. _God_ – His face was absurdly handsome, dazzling yet stern – The same way the men of stone statues in a museum looked as he was incredibly pale, which was a shocking contrast to the long black hair that framed his face. A pensive expression was upon his features, with his dark eyebrows knitted together in thought and his inviting, pink lips pursed together tightly. 

I sighed and hoisted my foot onto the chair across from me. Every muscle within my body felt tight, especially in my neck from keeping it craned to the table. I wished that we weren't doing this, I wish that Rachel Mathews' would get hit by a bus or something – _Well, that's a bit excessive actually..._ I suppose I just wish that she never went to the cinema, the one time Kylo Ren had taken me out – But what did I expect? Mr. Ren and I weren't even in a relationship, we were just the mess between a student and a teacher who had crossed the forbidden line of authority. 

I furrow my eyebrows and blow a breath through my cheeks, "Let's just forget about it for now," I say, clearly giving up, "My mind's not working tonight." I brush it off with a timid laugh.

I can see it clearly happening even now – I will never be able to write the perfect poem in order to win the competition for Rachel Mathews, then she would tell my Father, who would kick me out of college. Then, I'd never see Kylo Ren again and I'd eventually have to get some low-income job which probably involved me scanning the barcode of my own mistakes and melancholy fate as over the lonely years, I would become depressed and merely hiding the fact by swooning over the men in my Mother's works.

Mr. Ren drops the pen to the page and the sound awakens me from the spinning and overdriving carousel in my mind, which spun dangerously with fabricated destiny's.

He chuckles and shifts in his chair so that he is now facing me, "That's it?" He chimes, "We spent two hours staring at a blank page and only now, you admit that your mind is just as empty?"

"Hey!" I burst out into a laugh as I watch the mischief shine in his dark eyes like a beacon to my anxious soul. Then pointing around to the scrunched up pages that surround us like medium snowballs, I taunt him with a sarcastic tone and a rolling of my eyes, "Clearly it was working, look how many lines I had thought of. It doesn't help if my teacher hates every bit of my work."

I shake my head and peer up to the dark man, his eyes aways carrying me into his golden glory again, never not surprised by his brooding beauty, as he too was looking back at me with enchantment. When those burning eyes laid back upon me, they tore a hole into my anxious fears, which still ignorantly wanted and lusted after the touch he began lay with those fingers that danced upon my face so tenderly, despite the deep stare he gave, obviously lost in his own thoughts rather than the reality of right here, right now – Where the page sat, taunting me. 

I was lost with just his flicker of a gaze which had the power of slowing time into a stretched out continuum that even made the blood in my veins pause until my heart began to beat thunderously once more, bringing me back to life before his soulful browns, when suddenly, _they shifted._

"Not all of your work, sweetheart." He smirked around the rasp of his words and all at once, the silent tension between us was filled, _unlike that blank page_ , with a growing desire. Perhaps, all along, he was just waiting for me to give up so he could press his lips this roughly upon my own. 

Our tongues fight for dominance, but despite how sweet he tastes, Kylo is nothing but ruthless so I fall to his willpower, becoming the submissive to his overwhelming dominance. My Professor bites my bottom lip, nibbling on the delicate flesh with his sharp teeth and I only whimper when I begin to taste the slightest of blood. 

Kylo Ren has the ability to knead all of my anxiety out of my muscles, despite the fact that he is now the main cause of the panic in my bones – But like all heroine addicts, all I can think about is the way he feels against me, how he tastes when he rudely interrupts my wired thoughts with his tongue. 

He pulls away when the both of us are left gasping for air. Kylo smiles at me for a short second, a simple grin plastering with those wet lips of his and the sight only causes my heart to contract as if the ecstasy of his presence is ready to send me into an overdose. I feel lightheaded and giddy – I smile back to him tenderly.

Stuck in the slowing of a moment, my wild eyes settle upon him as if he was the gravity pull of the world, where simple girls like me, searched the hills, trenches and cities, for a man this glorious. I've stared, imagined and writhed beneath, this face for a while now, to the point where I even have that smile, _which only comes every-so-often,_ memorised. The way his slight dimples show with vulnerability, his lips stretch a little too wide over his teeth – I wish I could describe merely his smile in a poem, send it to the publishing house and demand that they put it in the New York Times, so everyone can finally understand what true charm and seduction looks like.

And then that smile pulls me in for another kiss and I move into it without hesitations, plastering my hands upon his stone chest as he wraps his hands into my hair. He's hard between us as he hides it below the dining-table, the same as I had hid my nervous legs before, and as I slide a hand down to the tent in his pants, he bucks into my palm eagerly. 

My body feels suddenly too tight, like my heart wishes to burst out of my tentative skin, and I blame it on the fact that my insides are coiled to the point of breaking as Kylo pulls away to ask me to return the favour of what he had graciously done for me, only a couple of hours earlier. 

But just as I cower beneath the table, pulling my hair all to one side of my neck, zipping down his fly and licking my lips before bobbing my head down to his long member – His hooded and dazed eyes must have settled out the window which he had pestered me for gazing out of before, for he sucks a sharp breath inwards and his hands push me away before I even hear the sound of tires, pulling up along gravel and parking in front of the window. 

"Get out!" He suddenly panicked, standing from the table all at once and tucking himself back into his pants roughly. Suddenly worried, I crawl out from under the table, but my movements must have been too slow for him, because when I curl my fingers around the top of the chair for balance as I try to stand back to my feet, Kylo suddenly wraps his hand around my wrist and lurches me up. 

His palms were sweaty and the adrenaline coursing through his system was shutting down his ability to think logically as I watched his eyes widen onto me and the smile from before, fade into trembling lips, "You need to leave, now." He said and before I even had the chance to become confused at his sudden change of attitude, my eyes shift to the movement of blonde hair, walking up the driveway with a parked car behind her. 

The sight was a knife in my ribs, the sharp point digging deeper as I could hear the shoes of the faceless woman, beginning to walk up the stairs to his porch. Burning rage hissed through my body like a deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted jealousy, "Is that your Ex-Wife?" I whispered as my mouth went dry. 

He nodded, his fingers curling tighter around my wrist as he began to tug me across the dining room, out the hall and to his back door which was through his laundry-room. Stumbling behind him, my breath gets caught in my chest and I know the fear is gaining back onto me, but this time so much quicker and stronger with its purpose. I breathe shallow and find a way to release the tension. 

"What is she doing here?!" I asked in a shaking tone as my eyes went wide when he nearly ripped the door off its hinges as he heard the sound of keys jingling in the front door's locks – Why his Ex-Wife still had keys to his home, was beyond me during this thrashing wave of petrified anxiety. 

As the cold air laced onto my skin and sent a breeze to sway my hair around my neck, Kylo's eyes were filled with a heavy coating of concern as his lips almost lost all of the pink colour that I love so dearly. Quickly unleashing his hand from around my wrist, I expect there to be bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow morning, but I don't even feel the throbbing pain as his hands now move to cup both of my cheeks.

"I could ask her the same _damn_ thing." He shook his head and whispered low as a greeting was called from the foyer. He pecked me with his dry lips as my own mouth felt as if he had shoved sand down my throat.

"I'm sorry." Was all he said before he helped me out of his backdoor and slammed it shut after me. 

I gasp loudly when I tumble my way out and heave in heavy breaths as if I was drowning. My skin suddenly feels cold as if the air is now cooling my overstressed flesh. Immediately bolting to his fence, I throw a leg over the medium height but my white dress still gets caught, leaving me to endure the sound of material tearing as I huff and yank the bottom hem off the white-picket.

I simply cannot believe what is happening – I feel like a teenage boy who is running across the lawn naked after jumping out of a window, hoping not to get caught by the girl's Father who had just knocked on her bedroom door. 

It made no sense for Kylo's Ex-Wife to just randomly show up at his house, though, he was yet to tell me anything about her or why they had gotten divorced, but then again, why should he? It wasn't like I was going to be the bright woman to take her dark place. 

I'm enduring a heavy feeling that's like the weight of the world is resting on my shoulders and there is nothing I could possibly do to get out from under it as I begin to make the long walk out of the twisting of his neighbourhood streets, before booking a cheap ride to the nearest train-station. 

It was the worst imaginable day to wear a white summer dress. The cold breeze moves in to meet the warmth of my blood, my defence against such ice. I feel it wash over my skin, again and again, only to strike the beat of my hurting heart, again and again. It licked at my face and crept under such thin material, spreading across my flesh like the lacy tide on a frigid winter beach. 

I bite the inside of my cheek as I glance to my phone, checking how far the getaway driver to my escape is from my current, unfamiliar location and as it gives me double digits, it is enough to bring on tears. 

Already weak with the events of the cinema and Rachel Mathews' threats, only to then add on the panic of what had just happened and getting basically kicked out of Mr. Ren's home – This quite possibly, has become the worst date ever.

_And then the rain began to fall._


	19. EIGHTEEN

I woke up this morning with the epiphany of a hurtful insight. It was as if the rain that crashed upon me furiously as I found my way home after being kicked out of Kylo Ren's house, had washed my eyes and conscience clean enough to ensure sudden clarity. 

The weight upon my shoulders had shifted, but it was still anchoring my heart down heavily – It felt like someone was sitting upon my collarbones with their legs wrapped tightly around my neck and their hands are forcefully shoving into my mouth to pry their fingers down my throat and into my chest, only to tear my heart out of its place brutally. 

Even my movements were stiff as I walked into Mr. Ren's class that chilly day. No longer was I wearing a summer dress in the middle of winter, but instead I was wearing my casual jeans – Though, I still presumably look like an idiot for not wearing my jacket, for once again, I had managed to leave it in Kylo's hands, after forgetting it was hanging on the back of his dining chair. It's probably hung up in his closet already, collecting moth-dust and swinging to the side as he rummages through his shirts to find the right one – Today it was a black button up, where the pale flesh of his neck seems to glow against it.

When our eyes meet, I look away with hesitation swimming around my irises and trudge over to the back desk, returning back to the spot I would sit in when he first arrived to campus and I was trying to avoid his eyes turning upon me, because they would leave me to scorch beneath the heated observance of his. 

Sitting down with a huff and throwing my textbook onto the desk, I only catch the knitting of his dark brows once and even from here, I can see the deep crease between them as the tension begins to rise from the floor and up to our mouths like a thick fog, leaving only our eyes to watch each-other and inspect what could be causing the smoke to be so smothering. 

But then, he begins the lesson. 

After all this time, it is only now where I wonder if the pain and struggle of hiding my desire for my Professor, is really worth it. I had enough problems before he came anyway – I'm failing college, My Father's still an asshole and my heartbreak was enough to ensure a life lived in depressive misery – And despite the fact that Kylo had manage to coax all the heartbreak out of me with his warm touches, I am terrified of the day where that heartbreak returns with a raging vengeance. 

I want to click the ink of my pen out of the plastic like an assassin would flip the hilt of their dagger and retract the blade, and then I want to throw it in the air to embed it into the back of Rachel's head of blonde-curls. But even when Juno Steele – _Her quiet friend_ – pretends to stretch and makes eye-contact with me, all I do is look away like the weak person that I am.

The clarity from earlier had followed me here the way blue water would fall downhill, it gathers around me and I am drowning beneath it, and just like the moment when one sinks to the bottom of a pool, I am glancing upwards to the light above, only it seems to be _him –_ But I can't help but feel like he was the one to push me into the water in the first place. 

With my jaw painfully tense as I grind my teeth together, my pen is nearly snapping in my grip, although my palms are sweaty. As I watch Mr. Ren up there, at the front of the class in front of the board with a piece of chalk in his hand, the white words upon the black only seem to shift and shape into the memory of his eyes yesterday night. 

He looked so agitated, so frightened – And I can't help but think that the whole time we stretch this secret affair out, deep down he will be that scared and I will forever be this anxious of being found and the consequences which will follow. 

He glances back and meets my eyes, but his move away again before mine do. I swallow dryly, but ever since last night I haven't been able to wet my paper throat. 

I haven't felt this type of anxiety since I was fourteen when the girls at my school decided one day that I wasn't good enough to be their friend – And the feeling I am enduring now, is just the same as back then, on those days where I would come home crying and beg not to go the next day, _only this feels worse._

There's a clarity – Yes. I can see it all perfectly now, no longer am I wearing my rose-coloured glasses because it seems I had left them back at his house, along with my jacket. I was frightened too. I was scared, agitated, terrified, petrified! I was frightened because I know Kylo Ren could break my heart back into two – And he will one day, after-all, this cannot last forever. 

The rain may be pouring down the windows to my right but there is beauty in it, that same clarity as the kind of thinking which lets me notice small details, like how his fingers curl into his palms whenever I act as if I am eying the clock above his head, instead of meeting his gaze – Or the way that I had completely, utterly and foolishly, fallen for someone who truely didn't care for me, unless I was wrapped around him.

Professor Ren was fiery hot and would lay his heated hands of burning passion upon my cool flesh, warming me right up. Maybe, all along Kylo Ren was like a candle to me, he illuminated my melancholy life of grey with his pale light, though with only a light blow of wind, he would be gone – Leaving only a thin smoke to become the evidence of the once burning fire. 

I don't want to feel the heartbreak of my own foolery, the day may be dimming but he still has the power to light a flame in the pit of my soul, always burning for more of him, always ready to set this whole city into a blaze, if that was what he had asked from me – And like back when I was fourteen, I knew that there was something wrong with the emotions that I was feeling.

He walks over to me slowly once the bell had rung and everyone else had fled out of the classroom – Rachel turns back before leaving out the door, to give me a sly smile and a mischievous wink. Despite my inner conflict, my heart seems to have a mind of its own when it skips a beat as he sits on the edge of my table, causing it to wobble above me, thanks to the shorter leg on the right. 

I closed my eyes when he sighs, the heat rising in my cheeks as the nagging ache coiled in my guts and a pulse began to beat down my thighs. I'm nothing but a love-sick teenager and I need to smack that ignorance out of me before this innocence shifts into something regrettable. 

"What did your Wife want?" I break the silence and ask.

 _"Ex."_ He reminds me, his large hand moving to flip my textbook closed, "And she just came over to get the last of her things."

I nodded and as he shifted closer upon the desk, I got a whiff of his aftershave and cologne – It was strange, Kylo's house seemed impossibly empty from a woman's touch, where did he keep the rest of her things? Probably in the attic to collect dust – As will my heart when one day, he or I, ultimately lose it. 

"Do you have any other classes today?" He asks me, to which I chuckle and shake my head.

"I can barely keep up with one class, let alone another." I say, my voice tinted with a sarcastic chime. 

"Right – Right," He hums as I watch the way his fingers play with he corner of my textbook – His long, porcelain fingers which I want to interlock my own between. He clears his throat and lifts his hand away, "Did you ever get around to that poem from yesterday?"

Running a hand through my hair, his words only add strength to my growing anxiety, "Ah, no and it's really starting to stress me out." I say, leaving out the real reason as to why it was causing me this great deal of mental wrath. 

Suddenly, he fills the emptiness of our conversation with his low chuckles which could even make the low rumbles of the thunder from outside, jealous.

"One minute, you don't even want to participate in the competition, the next, all you can think about is winning..." Kylo laughs but as I glance up from the table and back to his face, his features are etched differently to the way he would usually smirk above his chimes. 

He furrows his thick brows but his lips are still slightly upturned, "If this is about your grades – You do know that I will help in anyway that I can?"

Always startled by his bounty of good-looks, I stared now, open mouthed at his face and the knowing smirk upon his lips. I could see my own desire mingling with his own in the reflection of his glassy, dark eyes.

_Passing is the least of my worries now._

"T-Thank you," I stuttered as his hand now reached for my own, interlocking his fingers with mine as if he could read my thoughts from before, to which an electric shock ran up my arm and struck my heart – I knew exactly what he meant by his touches, after-all, they only meant one thing. 

I smile weakly to him and repeat his question from earlier, "– Do _you_ have any other classes today?"

He lifts my hand to his face and as I feel the heat of his breath fan upon the back of my hand, I feel that same warmth speed through my veins and coax my blood back to reverie. 

He brushes a kiss over my knuckles, a delicate and longing kiss which was slow across the flesh as if he didn't want to damage the wings of the butterflies which fluttered in my stomach. 

Kylo blinks slowly and nods his head as if he is disappointed with his own answer, "Hm. Yes, I have one in an hour." 

"And, after that?" I slowly add with a nod.

He shakes his head, "I have nothing."

Swallowing my pride, which only scratches down my dry throat as if I was choking on glass, I ignore the screaming voices of anxious revelations from the back of my mind as I say, 

"W-We could go back to yours?" My voice is weak and the stuttering never helps, though, he does bite back a smile every-time I do so, "But we don't have to spend the whole time trying to write the poem, I don't want to waste–"

"I have to grade papers." He cuts my rambling short.

My heart sinks to the acidic depths of my stomach and dies in the bubbling of disappointment, "Oh." Is all I am left to say and as the silence begins to taunt me, Kylo saves me once again by that soothing chuckle of his. 

He shakes his head and smiles to his hands as if he is uncertain of uttering the words in which, he wants to so desperately say, "It seems that with all my time spent with you, I have forgotten that I have duties too." His eyes shift back onto me, pulling my heart back out of my stomach and hanging it upon my ribcage to dry, "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"No – It's okay!" I quickly brush the crimson embarrassment off my face and laugh with a roll of my eyes, "I guess, I was just being silly. Of course, you need to do work."

I don't partially know if he was cutting my words short again or he just couldn't hold onto his patience any further, when he suddenly leant down and pressed his lips to my own. It was delicate at first, but soon, he began to kiss me as if he was hungry for more – _Which, he always was._

I only responded like I always do, with no sudden hesitations as my mind begins to spin like a flat tire and my clarity vanishes in the burnt rubber. I offer myself up as if I was upon a plate, and he never turns _me_ down.

Our tongues dance over one another in a sensual tango and his hands begin to curl into my hair and twine around my shoulder, trying to pull me closer but the edge of the table is our barrier. 

Just when I attempt to pull away to regain my breath, I only suck a sharp burst of oxygen in before Kylo pushes my tortured lips back to his and ravishes my mouth with his tongue, possessively.

He moans into the kiss and the sound vibrates through my whole body. Professor Ren's hand upon my shoulder then slides like a sly snake, down to my left breast and cups it eagerly, his thumbs brushing the line in my shirt from the material of my bra. 

I pushed into his hand as if I wanted his long fingers to push through my skin, to pull the heart beneath my bust out, only for him to stomp onto it violently.

My own hands now reached out for him and I scraped my fingernails down the skin below the nape of his hair, feeling every bump of his spine as I do so. 

The classroom has become more than a place where he teaches and a room where I fail – And it only cracks another piece of my heart as I realise that this is all we will ever do, _kiss behind closed doors._

Despite the privations of our intimacy and the clandestine nature of what is to never become a real relationship, I find myself always willingly allowing him to have fun with me – With my body. 

I had become accustomed to everything about him – Brooding and stern. I craved him like an addictive drug, cocaine and heroine have nothing compared to the rapture that was Kylo Ren. 

There was no love spent in our kiss, only lust – Two very different things. This murky and dusty classroom was the place that we had met and eventually, I will most likely be the one to leave and he will move onto the next girl who falls into the trappings of his gravity. 

As his taste floods my senses, I think back to the very day that Mr. Ren had first walked through the door. When my finger met the paper in my hands, _before I would have even ever considered a brief love affair,_ and it took my blood as a trophy. The blood of my paper cut, resembled the way the scarlet flooded to my cheeks upon one look of his rosy lips. It stung but with him staring that deeply into my soul, his honey-brown eyes numbed me completely, as would morphine to a screaming victim. 

And that's exactly what I am to Kylo Ren, I am his victim, but he must be my Stockholm Syndrome for I only anticipate the pain of his paper cut's again, as I seek to find his heartstrings to bandage the wound which only bleeds and bleeds. 

Reality intrudes and anxiety is its best-friend. My soul aches and finally, he allows me to pull away. We are left to pant in the empty space of the classroom and when he gives me a small smile, I only give it back to _him,_ my relapse. 

I raise my eyebrows and uncurl my hands from around his neck, "Enjoy... _Grading?"_ I chime with a light laugh as I shake my head and begin to collect my things. 

Kylo Ren runs his tongue along his bottom lip, as if he is savouring my taste as do I with his, as I refuse to suddenly swallow. 

_"I'll try,"_ He says, brushing his thumbs along my cheek only once, before letting me go. 

To say that the classroom in which I had just come from, was incredibly quiet – The hallways are a shock to my static induced system. It seems that everyone was trampling undercover, to keep away from the trickling, cold rain – Leaving barely any space to push against the path which is heading away from the main-entry's door.

It's almost so loud, that I didn't hear the phone in my back pocket ring – Until it began to vibrate too. I slip it out of my jean-pocket and squint my eyes to the caller ID, uncaring of each shoulder which bumps into my own as I bite down the urge to scream and throw my phone to the crowded floor of moving feet. 

Almost stomping my way to the head office, it takes longer than it should've because of the populated halls – But when I finally arrive, I don't even bother to say a greeting to the blonde receptionist behind her tall desk, for my Father had requested me only seconds ago, through a text. 

The blind-curtains rattle against the window of his office door as I flick it shut behind me and huff as I sit in the plush chair in-front of his wooden desk, where he sits with squinting eyes upon the light of his computer. 

"There you are." He says in a disinterested and low tone, keeping his eyes trained on the screen, even as he moves his head slowly to face me – But then they spring upon me in a sudden motion, "How are you doing?"

"Fine." I utter, crossing my arms over my stomach as if I was hiding the flutters of the butterflies which still dance in my guts, from the taste of Kylo still lingering upon my tongue. "You wanted to see me?" I ask. 

Wearing the same blue-suit which he wore on my high-school graduation day, the tie he had paired with it was the light red one I had gifted to him on Father's Day, many years ago – And the colour is only a laughing stock to my blood of desire for one of his colleagues. 

"Yes – I wanted to speak with you about this..." He furrows his brows, the rest of his wrinkling face beginning to follow suit as he bites his tongue to my rude tone and then leans down to his bottom drawer, retrieving an envelope. 

Panic rises like a flag would be hoisted to the top of a pole, only to whip and sway violently in the thrashing winds, which weather it back down. I have no idea what is hidden within that white envelope, but the unknowing cannot be good, the unknowing only leaves a blank slate for my panic to fill the slots with fabricated scenarios.

Had Rachel snitched on me by giving it in writing? Is it my Father's formal admission to my expulsion? 

I bite the inside of my cheek harshly, opening, _once again,_ the healing cut in my mouth – To which, the blood seeps out of and covers the memory of Kylo Ren's tongue and taste.

"Wha–"

The rattling of the blinds from behind me, echoes throughout the room and causes the pounding of my heart, to only louden above the sound as the receptionist walks in with heeled shoes. My Father flicks his eyes off me and to her, smiling in a genuine way, to which all of the butterflies die in the churning nausea of my stomach.

The space between the sight of the mysterious envelope and the answer as to what it is, is wavering misery to my awakened soul. _Hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up_ – I chant in my head as I begin to curl my fingers into my palms. 

"Going?" He asks her, but I don't bother to even glance back to her as she begins to speak. 

"Yes," She says in a light and feathery tone – One much different to the power in my Mother's, "See you tomorrow." She adds, to which he farewells her and keeps his eyes trained in her direction, until the blinds smack against the window once again. 

"Where were we? Oh –" He mutters, then waving the envelope in his hand with that same smile that he gave to the receptionist, but it doesn't hold the power to return my own, the way Mr. Ren's always does. 

_Speaking of him..._

"Professor Ren gave me this, this morning." My Father says. 

"And – What is it?" I ask in a trembling tone as my anxiety only quickens to keep up with my pacing annoyance. 

With my heart beating so incredibly fast and loud, it vibrates and pulsates even in my ears, to which I cannot truely hear the words that my Father speaks, but my wide eyes can read them clearly around the smile of his white teeth and cheating tongue. 

_"Your entry into the publishing house's competition."_


	20. NINETEEN

In the shift of one second, time flows like cement. The moment that the words had left my Father's mouth, the once, not-so-intimidating office room, turned like whirlpool in my mind, becoming one of much more fright.

The inky darkness of the name upon the envelope which was written in black, engulfs the frail light of the grey sky that peaks through the windows, diminishing all happiness and bliss that had risen upon my cheeks caused by Kylo's hands from only minutes ago – Those long, perfect hands, which had written my name across the top of the envelope and given it to my Father.

The poem I had written about him and was too shy to read it aloud – He had gone through my bag when I left it in his car days ago, taken the poem out of my notebook... _And kept it._

With a mouth of paper, the silence lingers in the dry air, and as my Father raises a questioning brow, I shiver in the claustrophobic space of his suddenly, haunting office – Opening my mouth to speak, only a small hitch of anxiety leaps out of my mouth. Tersely, my eyes flicker back to the envelope in his hands.

Confusion evident my face of scrunched eyebrows, narrowed eyes and parted lips, I shook my head and stuttered, "M-Mr. Ren handed my poem in?"

_No – No! This cannot be good._

My surroundings become a place of cruel purgatory, where my anxiety howls, the fear runs through my blood like sprinting hellhounds, and in the centre of the fiery depths, is my Father – Who sits on an office-chair, throne.

Sighing at my disgruntled features, the balding man lets the envelope fall to the wood of his desk, but I can still see the crisp paper taunting me. Furrowing his own, light brows now, he must have been perplexed with my sudden shift of attitude, for he said, "Yes, he said that you gave it to him in class and thought that it was good enough to submit?"

Though his words are light, but confused, my Father held a menacing gaze upon me, sitting across from him as would any of his students. His mouth twitched up slightly at the corners, the smile never reaching his stone-cold eyes, from years of me diminishing the glow with my lack of empathy to ignite it.

My stomach churns with unease as I remember the lines upon that poem which I had, majorly, based off Kylo Ren and the day when he had called me a liar, which only lead to become this crazy, sexual... _Secret?_

My throat clogged as if my Father had scrunched up the envelope in his hand and shoved it down my mouth, "And is it?" I rasped, turning my eyes back to him slowly.

The man behind the desk, nods. It is embedded internally and forever, the rage towards my traitorous Father, who ever since I had found out about his own, illicit affairs, I had progressed through the rest of my adult life not believing a single thing he said – But with ocean eyes of sincerity and pride, I know what he next says, is nothing but the truth.

"Exceptionally." He grins slowly, the way the Cheshire Cat would stretch his lips and beam his teeth to get Alice to believe his riddled directions. Leaning his elbows on the desk, "It reminds me of your Mother's old work." He added.

It took a beat of silence for the words to settle in, before I realise what he had said – My Mother's eyes flash in the back of my mind, but the creases which rise in the skin around them aren't there, instead, there's the watery glaze above her home-like irises.

My heart clenches in my chest, as tightly as my fists are when the knuckles turn white. Surely, he cannot be actually giving me a complement? Not him – The very man who had told me that I wasn't capable of completing college.

My breathing begins to slow and I can feel the pulse in my veins behind my wrists. My Father only adds to the silence with his rough tone, which used to bring me comfort on those nights, _long ago,_ when he'd read me a bedtime story and then tuck me into the sea of blankets in the crate of my single-bed.

"I even think it has a great chance of winning."

I choke on my own spit.

"What?" I spurt, my eyes wide as my heart nearly shoots out of my chest and crashes upon his desk, splattering blood upon his red tie.

He flinches slightly, but his eyes are merely surprised, "The poem – I honestly think it may give you an internship at the publishing house." He says slowly as he nods his head with every third word, as if I was a deaf and he was trying to make sure that I could read the way his mouth moves.

Trepidation becomes the bars to an invisible cage which locks me in, ensuring claustrophobia and panic to fold onto my cowering frame. I can hear the snide remark from Rachel Mathews, _even now_ – My fear imagining the exact way in which she will tear my life to shreds. _No, she has to win the contest!_ I shouldn't even be submitting anything... Why did Kylo hand my poem in? Especially, a poem which he had stolen from my bag, _but that's the least of my problems..._

This is all my fault. I am certain that he wouldn't have done so, if he knew of Rachel's threats, but I was scared! I didn't want to lose him, so I lost my judgments instead and kept Kylo in the dark.

Maybe, all along, I was never meant for relationships but my worst abuse came from my muse, for even when I grasped onto it for a split second, it burnt me right back. This threat of Rachel's over the publishing house internship, will become the wrath to the flicker of my soul –Extinguishing the small flame, but only with a nuclear bomb of panic... So I have to blow my own candle out before she ends up torching it instead.

"I–" I begin, but my tone begins to wobble in the trembling of the lump in my throat, which rises at the same time as the tears threaten to. I close my eyes and sigh, shaking my head as I pull enough courage to speak again, "I don't want to submit it."

Truely shocked now, my Father's eyebrows raise and his head nudges back as his right hand goes to adjust the knot of his tie to cover the surprise casually, "I beg your pardon?" He dryly chuckles, "Why not? It's the best piece you've written in a while and it will greatly boost your grades."

I shake my head quickly but attempt to keep my agitation at bay as I begin to dock to his level and throw an anchor down to begin begging, "Father, please –" I nearly cry, my hands now gripping the edge of his desk, "I _really_ don't want the internship... And I don't even want to enter the competition."

My jaw tightens as I fight the wobble of my chin. _Oh_ – How I indeed, want that internship. It would solve all of my other problems, besides the overly large one in the middle. It would be a head start in the career which I want to follow, it would leave me comfortably stable for a while and perhaps, I could forget about college in the meantime?

But then what about Kylo? Rachel would presumably tell my Father, meaning I most definitely will have to forget about college still, but also him too.

Every decision I have made since I had met him, _was for him..._ Was I really about to sacrifice this great chance of an offer, for Kylo Ren – My Professor?

_Yes._

My Father sucks a sharp breath inwards only to sigh it back out, "Well, I don't know about that." He shakes his head and picks up the envelope to add emphasis to his words, before dropping it back into his drawer, as if it meant nothing. "You really need to boost your grades before you start being this foolish." He remarks.

Shame was evident on my face, a look of humiliation rising in the heat of my neck. I want to scream and drag my fingernails along the wood of his desk. I want to pry his drawer open and tear the poem into shreds. 

I looked upon my Father, giving him a closed smile to try and bring a sense of security to my lies and when I stand, his eyes only follow me, though they miss the trembling of my legs which struggle to keep my weight up with all this nervous panic stinging my muscles.

"My grades are starting to get better, K–" I almost slip, but he doesn't notice, _"Mr. Ren,_ has been giving me other work."

Disbelieving, my Father's eyes flicked to my once again, clenched knuckles, and he made a _tsk_ sound through his teeth. "Hm." The balding man of authority hummed, thinking over his next words carefully before he said them – But still, they were disappointing, "Then, I'd like to hear that from him first, before deciding if you truely want to give up this great opportunity."

His words were a painful blow to my heart and agitation, almost leaving me winded as I tried everything not to wail and crumple to the floor, _even now,_ as the rain thrashes down upon my frail state, _once again._

My whole body is stuck in the horrible feeling that you get when something scares you – Like that moment when someone pokes out of the corner and yells, _'boo!'_ And all the oxygen leaves your lungs, your body stiffens and a sharp feeling prickles every bit of your senses awake – Though it delays your reality, until you realise that it was someone just pulling a joke on you and the relief floods over the panic and you laugh off the prickles with a hand pressed against your heart.

But there is no relief rising to mend the sharp feeling of panic in my chest and I simply cannot go through this any longer than I had already spent, pacing my dorm-room – I need to tell him and I need his help to fix this mess, _now._

Panic makes people do crazy things, and fast – There's never a build up when it comes to panic or when it comes to adrenaline and right now, I have so much, _unwanted,_ adrenaline coursing through my veins as if it is a racetrack. 

If my poem gets sent to the publishing house and in the slightest of chances, _wins_ – Kylo Ren will no longer be mine and as the clarity washes over me again with the hopeless gales of the wet winds, I simply have no choice but to understand what all of this meant... I cared for Mr. Ren, much more than a secret lover would.

How could I let myself fall so easily? I had known all along, not to fall, for the slow drop of passage wouldn't last long and eventually I will break upon impact with the cold, hard ground – And the floors were coming. I am slowly drawing closer to them and I need Kylo's hand to pull me back up, before I shatter everywhere.

As I step off the platform of the closest station, the sky's waves crash against my skin and I wrap my arms around my torso in weak attempts to regain the warmth which my jacket would bring, if it weren't at his house.

I'm contemplating between giving him the wholehearted truth, after-all, that is what he deserves, or turning back around and crowbarring my Father's locked drawer open, to scratch out my name on the envelope and replace it with Rachel's... _No – No_ , I simply cannot go through this anxiety alone anymore – So I hail the taxi in the distance.

As I rest my forehead against the rattling glass, sitting in the back seat of the cab, watching the rain drip down the glazed window, I notice that love tends to resemble warmth but ever-since I had laid eyes upon Kylo, nothing but rain fell. Was it trying to warn me? No doves fly beneath grey skies with their white wings, and they were the symbol of devotion.

It's only him, I, and the restless seas which threaten to crash onto our dry-land. My heart is stuck in a place that never shines, the weight of the secrecy, hanging heavy like a thick cloud would smother the sun.

Slamming the cab door shut, one step follows the other almost robotically as my mind leaves my body in the mess of a hazy fretting. I can feel the desire in me, I can feel the muse – But it is only him who can awaken it.

He's my paper cut lover – The festering wound that refuses to heal, simply because I enjoy the pain he gives. Mr. Ren doesn't love me and he never will, that idea is honestly laughable. Kylo Ren was my Professor and all he wanted me for, was for that same desire which he ignited and like a fool in love, I will let it waste away in his warm hands.

I puffed a cold breath of air out shakily and it left my body in the form of white smoke. I knew I shouldn't be so nervous but the truth was, I was terrified. I feel as if I am about to throw pebbles against his window and confess my true feelings for him – And despite the fact that I am only here to tell him of the sticky situation arising around us, I know that he will be able to tell by my voice and eyes, that I am only panicking because... _I need him._

My clothes and hair are drenched but the door doesn't fold like paper when I knock my fist against it lightly.

As I swallow what little pride I have left, I brush my trembling hands down my wet shirt as if I was trying to stretch all of the wrinkles out but it only leaves my palms covered in a glaze of rain-water as I hear footsteps and then the rustling of the locks of his door.

The door opened ever-so slowly and I was awaiting the warmth he brought to strike me immediately, but as eyes lock onto me, the rain only seems to pick up power and wash my body, ice cold.

My heart does the leap – And it crashes into a million, tiny pieces as the paper cuts of my own thin ignorance, welt into every sign of my false hope, bleeding the rhapsody dry.

Eyes of dark blue and blonde hair curtaining the beauty of her face and falling like soft silk upon her jacket _– My jacket –_ Her dainty and tan hand, snakes around the edge of the door, and my own heartbreak can be seen in the reflection of a silver ring clasped around her fourth finger, as her gaze inspects me, wondering just where she recognises my fallen face from.

"Hello," My Father's, beautiful, receptionist says, "Can I help you?"

The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like her Husband had shed the clothes off my body, so many times until he finally reached the fragility of my soul.

Time slows like it does, every-other time that he is around and as he walks from down the hall and stops just when he reaches the foyer – Just when he meets my wet eyes, peaking over his Wife's shoulder – The flames of his gaze, torments my soul which immediately, had blown out its own light into a heartbreaking darkness.

He freezes and I can see the way his mouth falls and his lips tremble as he flicks his eyes from me, to the blonde woman and then back to me again.

The heartstrings of mine, snap as if the blonde receptionist – _Kylo Ren's Wife_ – Had cut them sharply with her bright and warm smile.

"Sorry –" I shake my head as the tears begin to drip down my face, although nobody but I could tell, as the tang begins to slip into my mouth and only add salt to my wounds. "Wrong house." I utter, before turning around and allowing my features to absolutely collapse, crumple and silently wail as I swiftly walk away.

It's a deep and internal pain, with no antidote to relieve the war of sharp punches in my chest. My heart aches, it utterly cries as do I – It feels as if it had been bluntly torn from the cage of my ribs, breaking the fragile bones along the way and then as it began to beat a slower tune, it was repetitively stabbed, just to watch the dying pulse bleed out what was left of my love.

 _How had I not seen it coming?_ How had Kylo managed to keep a wrecking ball of a secret, all the while, I struggled to hold onto my frail ones? I was utterly blind, of course he wasn't divorced, there was so many red flags all along, and I only chose to see them as rose-coloured instead.

The raindrops pellet to the ground and splash in the puddles around my quick footsteps, which only kick through the body of water as the sun begins to retreat behind the slow rumbling of the dark skies and the weak sounds of my sobs.

The storm leaves everything around me, strong and standing as the trees only sway and the cement grounds don't crack beneath the force, but my legs are nearly crumpling to the pavements as I hear him calling out from behind me as I finally leave his street and continue walking down another, trying to get away.

"Sweetheart!" His deep voice shouts, to which my eyes clench closed and the mascara smears across the my palms as I rub my eyes.

I can hear his feet gaining up to me – I can hear the smacking of his shoes in the cold puddles, which I want to lie face down in and drown in the soot.

He roughly grabbed my wrist, wrapping his long fingers around my bone and squeezing as I halt my footsteps, but do not face him. My entire body quivered and I could even feel the slight shake of his fingers, squeezing the erratic pulse in my wrist.

"Sweetheart," Kylo Ren whispered against the wind.

I pull against his grip, trying to get away but his fingers only curl tighter to keep me close to him. I bite the inside of my cheek as my lips pull down as if they are tied to a weight and the sting behind my eyes, is enough to ensure a headache.

"Go away, Kylo." I sniff, my words quivering as I still don't turn to face him – For I know the pain will only become more real, more utterly, traitorously, tangible. _Heartbreak._

I pull again, but this time, he lets go of my wrist in the force and I stumble a bit before trudging away. The sound of my cries echo through my own soul and possibly reverberate through his own too. Again, Kylo's following me with much quicker footsteps, each slap of leather on the concrete drawing more hairs on my neck upright, until eventually, he curves around me and leaves me to smack into his chest.

Kylo's hands now only softly brush my upper-arms as he tries to keep me standing and as I let out a loud and broken sob, my forehead falls to the toned chest of his, where behind it, I can hear the beat of his own heart.

He swallows roughly and I know he is gazing down at me as he softly utters, "Stop walking, just stay."

I fought the urge to sob into his chest unceasingly, hands clutching at his bare arms, where the hair stood and the goosebumps rose in the white skin. He held me in silence but my mind was screaming. I shook my head and pulled away like one would slowly tear a bandage off a scabby sore – Blinking with eyelashes heavy with tears, I opened them slowly and looked at him with pain swirling around my pupils.

I glare to Kylo – Ignoring the soul-wrecking beauty of him as the rage boiled through me, crawling up my weak arms, legs, and squirming in my empty stomach. I shook, breath coming in gasps, tears forcing their way into my eyes endlessly.

_How could he do this to me?_

_How could he do this to his unknowing, Wife?_

I swallowed as my anger was consumed almost instantly by the depth of Kylo's wide and uncertain eyes. I tried to keep my breathing even, I tried to calm down, but it was futile – My body betrayed me, like it always did when he was near, but this wasn't lust soaring through my veins, this was something poisonous.

My voice is slow and weak, as if there is no emotion in my vessel but on the exterior and the glaze above my eyes, there is too much.

"She's not your Ex-Wife... _Is she?"_ I ask him, glancing away and biting my trembling lip at his shoulder.

He shakes his head and glances away from me also, "No."

I flick my eyes back upon him, to find that indeed, he is refusing to look at the pain he had caused.

Staring at his tall figure, his shoulders are hunched in and the colour is completely drained from his already, porcelain face – But that isn't what shocks me the most as my tears begin to mix with the rain that runs down my cheeks, nose and mouth... It's his deep eyes which have lost their shine – Their usual glory.

I nod as my chin quivers like a child's, "She's your Wife." I say, rather than ask.

The rain clashed around him, drenching his hair to stick upon the stone face of his. He chews his bottom lip as he blinks slowly, as if he wants to close his eyes and disappear instead of face me.

"... Yes."

The addition coming from his lips where I used to wish that I could live upon, only caved my chest in some more. I felt hallow inside, the emptiness sudden, but never diminishing. This has to be some kind of nightmare, but the ache is too painful to not be real.

I feel betrayed – I feel as if my whole life is wasted. He was supposed to be the light in the darkness, he was the only thing keeping me holding on, despite the fact that his edges were sharp and always cut me deeply.

I shake my head and chortle a weak and sad laugh, unbelieving, "You're just like them."

His eyebrows furrow slowly and he turns his face back to me and the muscle beneath his right eye twitches as he inspects the wrecking of me.

Kylo's lips part softly and it takes a second before he speaks, "Who?"

I roll my eyes and curl my fingernails back to their place in my palms, "Them – My Father, Leo."

His perfect face suddenly scrunches in confusion. I shouldn't even be sparing him my explanations, but I was tearing apart and all my truths were finally breathing in the cold air.

 _"Leo?"_ He asks, taking a step closer but I only take another back, "What are you talking about?"

The memories won't stop flowing to my mind, all of the passion, desire and lust, haunting and triggering my torture. I utterly hated the receptionist, all because I had a slight inkling that she could be the woman that my Father had cheated on my Mother with – And yet, all along, I was in those shoes, myself. _I'm a home-wrecker._

"You're a cheater, y-you used me to fill some – _I don't know,_ some sexual fantasy!" I suddenly shout into his face, my voice croaking and rasping against the cracking winds through the sidewalk trees around us.

He tries to speak but this time, I am the one to cut him off, "You don't care about me. You knew you could just have me in anyway you wanted, and you thought that nobody would ever find out! You even thought that I wouldn't find out about your Wife!"

As I rambled on, I felt his control over my breaking heart slip even further, my tears are hot and streaming down my face as the sobs were ripped from my throat, more frequent now, causing my breath to shudder more violently as he only keeps his tightly locked in his broad chest.

He tried to shake his head, "I do care about you."

I scoff, "Why are you lying to me?"

In the browns of his eyes, is where my heart was now buried and I can see my grave beginning to hollow out the irises and the weeks around the tombstone, dry out and die.

Kylo swallowed coarsely, "I'm not lying to you." He assured, but his words were as dead as the grave in his eyes.

I narrow my own and take a step closer, enough to feel his quick breath fan my face warmly in this world of icy chill, "Then why aren't you crying?" I say strongly, my words finally not stuttered, "Huh? Why is it only me, who is hurting?

The silence is eating my soul up. The rain swirled in droplets around us and so did my uneasy stomach which also swallowed all of my insides. My heart would've shattered into a million pieces just by that one look he flinched and gave to me, if it hadn't already been broken a million times already today,

_"I am h–"_

"You're not hurting." I snap, "You knew exactly what you were doing the whole time – You knew that it would cause me this incredible amount of pain and you still continued to pull me into your disgusting affair... _And you still hurt me!"_

My voice echoes and cracks down the street but the rain is enough to slightly muffle it – After-all, everything Kylo and I did, had to be in _secret._

My words seem to strike him harshly, for all of a sudden, his eyes widen further and his voice belts out quickly as if the words he speaks, have sat below his sly tongue all this time, "I didn't think this would happen..." Kylo said, breathless, "It was only supposed to happen once, I couldn't help myself and I can't even explain to you, what you did to me on that day my eyes first fell upon you."

His mouth twitches slightly whilst he lowers his head and sighs, flicking his sight to my hands by my sides, "It was only meant to be one time," His own voice quivers now, "I-I didn't think that I would grow these tantalising feelings of mine for you."

All at once, I realise this is the most insight he had ever, willingly, given to me. Kylo Ren was always so secret, so closed off – And perhaps, so was I? I hid my feelings and I scrapped away all the poems I had written about him, knowing that too much truth can often ruin the shine of things...

"Feelings!?" I bite down my own thoughts and laugh with a dry tone, "You hardly even talk to me! All you ever want is my body beneath yours."

Kylo's face falls and his own hands now clench into fists by his sides, "I want so much more." He says, in a determined and honest tone – _But it's too late for honesty now._

I shake my head and suddenly, I throw my hands against his chest and push him back, but he hardly moves, though he doesn't fight back, "More and more! All you ever want is _more,_ but you never give me anything!" I cry, the sobs now spurting up my throat again.

Just when my hands are preparing for another blow, he catches them mid air by my wrists and holds them against his beating heart as he stares intently into my eyes – And when he speaks again, I finally notice the way the corners of his mouth, twitch downwards but he fights against it.

"I could give you everything." Kylo Ren assures.

I roll my eyes again and slap my hands against that tantalising heartbeat once more before snapping them out of his feather-like grip, ignoring the way his thumbs brushed my skin.

"Everything? Or half of everything..." I ask in a taunt, the daggers of my words, dipped in a deathly and sly poison and thrown to him, "After-all, I have to share with your Wife... Who, _by the way_ , is my Father's assistant."

I stand in my place, crying into the fire that engulfed my heart. The trickles of salty tears falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping and when I glance away from his face, his voice only pulls my gaze back to him – After-all, he was always swaying my gravity to him. 

"I'm sorry." Kylo's voice cracked but his heart was yet to brew salty tears, "Please, just don't end this... _I need you."_

There was something in his eyes behind the brown, there was a pain behind it. And I knew all at once, that his lack of emotion and brooding expressions was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier who would randomly throw out grenades only because he was scared for his life, lonely and desperate in his fears.

I breathed in real heavy, ignoring the way when I blinked slowly, I could still see the burning red behind closed lids.

The thrashing winds and pelting rain seemed to silence in this sudden shift, but they mimic the tears which _don't_ cascade down his cheeks or swirl around the freckles on his pale face, which I once adored. A breath gets caught in my chest, _"Need me?"_

His hands reach out for me.

He nods, but I hardly had a moment to react before he pressed his tongue to the seam of my lips and, at my grant of access, delved inside my mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of need in our billowing breaths. My arms reached up and tangled around his thick, strong neck as my fingers tiptoed to his hair and forcefully, snatched him off me.

"Do you love her?" I ask.

His breath shakes upon my face, "Sweetheart." He coos as his eyebrows knit together.

I unwind my hands from around his neck and then curl them back into fists by my sides, as if I want to punch through the illusions that our desires make, which only torment me into loving him.

I repeat myself, "Do you _love_ her?"

A quiet shard from the shattering of my heart, cuts through the tension in the air, but his silence is my only answer as he stutters to find words, "I-"

Within seconds, I was back drowning in a tidal wave of hysterical pain that originated from deep in my core, overwhelming my senses with a desire to wail in despair.

I was powerless, but during this sickening sense of disappointment, I manage to rally my wits and recollect all of my sharp shards from the clutter of my once heart, which he had broken – Just like I knew, he always would.

"That's all I need." I nod and give him a weak and frail smile as my eyes wallow with deep sadness, _"Goodbye, Mr. Ren."_


	21. TWENTY

The sun only shines a radiant of mockery – _It has for weeks now._

Warm with a sudden and persistent brilliance, it brought infinite hues to relish on the greens and browns of the college campus, complimenting the bright faces and golden smiles of those around me.

Light an exceptionally clean from the desolation that the rain had brought, the world seems altogether, brighter than it should during those tender moments when I would rub my wet eyes with trembling fists and peer out of my window, which is the barrier between the glory of another day and the clash to the deep and intense darkness of my dorm and soul.

I feel like I am the one cloud in the empty, blue sky – I'm grey and full of suppressed sorrows and intense rage, waiting for the exact moment when the wrath that I hold, becomes too heavy for my feathered touch and leaves me to soar it out of my heart and upon every happy face on campus.

Although, the sun is hot, my misery is cold – The pain comes in waves, pulling me under an intense and smothering surface, tearing out the breath from my lungs and pushing dirty water into the emptiness of my chest. I'm left lonesome with the struggle. I'm gasping for air but there is none to gain, so I'm left choking on the wallowing grief of losing him, until the point that I sometimes cry so hard, my aching heart thinks that it will surely combust – And for the world to play some sick and twisted joke by drowning me only to then toss me out again into the cruel light, where I'm constantly reaching for a life-jacket, my safety... _It's damn heartbreaking._

I tried to forget the way the sadness smothered me as I walked away from Kylo Ren, _as the tides began to pull in_ – But I simply found that life doesn't honestly feel like I am living in it, if there is no excitement, no thrill, no happiness, no tender crush in the tangible touch of _him –_ So, I find comfort in the pain – I tie the rope of an anchor around my waist and jump back into the depths.

Everything ended so abruptly. How could he simply do that to both his Wife and me? How does something so tenacious and unfair, conspire in such a way that what is so joyful in one moment turns monstrous in the next? I see it all so clearly as I fall into a daydream whilst staring out the window behind a head of gold, replaying the twist on an endless loop in my recalcitrant brain.

Kylo Ren had a Wife – _Not an Ex-Wife, A, straight-up, Wife_ – And he clearly loved her, despite his infidelities – I know that for a positive from his silent answer, and yet... He still ran through the treacherous winds and slandering whips of raindrops, calling out and begging for me to stay in the shadows, as if I was the real one he loved radiantly, sought happiness from and planned a future around. It made me feel sick even now as I can easily picture that fabricated and secretive, future leaking onto the pavement with the grimy rain.

The scrawny girl in-front of me, finally stops talking to the receptionist but gravity still hasn't pulled me out of my daydream yet, so Percy kicks me lightly in the heel to force me out of it himself. I shake my head and clear my throat whilst faking a tight smile as I walk up to the head-desk, fold my hands over the counter and tilt my head with that beaming, uncomfortable smile of mine as the blonde and gorgeous woman, wonders where she has seen my face before – Just not as... Happy, or the hoax of happy, I guess.

Though, my grin briefly falls and my eyes shift into a darker state, when she speaks those same words that now haunt me, _"Hello,"_ She smiles, her blue eyes shining brightly against her tan, honey-like skin, _"Can I help you?"_

Many smothering waters cannot quench the burning flames of jealousy. It's toxic, venomous, powerful and it's hold over me, is deadly. 

The wrinkles beside her exceptionally blue eyes, somehow fit perfectly with the smooth skin of her face, which holds that brilliant smile of her's. Of course she belonged to Kylo and it was fitting that she owned his heart too – She was beautiful, and so was he.

My heart beats loud in my own ears and my chest caves in painfully.

I swallow the rise of thick sadness and envy which swirl like a threatening tornado up my throat and let it cause havoc among the grave of butterflies in my stomach. Flicking my eyes to the jacket she wears, I force that smile back on my face abruptly as Percy stands closely behind, scrolling through something on his phone.

"Hi!" I greet her, my own voice sounding as if it belonged to a different soul. I shake my head and widen my eyes to only add emphasis to my imitated brightness, "First, I _have_ to say – I love your jacket."

Mr. Ren's Wife, raises her eyebrows in surprise but it is only I, who becomes shocked, as that smile of her's, only somehow grows – _So damn perfectly._

"Oh, thanks!" She beams, a light flush rising to the apple's of her soft cheeks as her hand flies to the collar to play with the silver button, which matches the silver ring around her fourth finger. _I want to snap it off_ – Sure, there was no reason to be angry with her, after-all, she was kept in the dark as much as I was, by Kylo Ren – But no, that's not all... This beautiful woman owns Kylo and she presumably ruined my family too.

_Cheaters belong with cheaters, I suppose._

Raising a hand up from the interlocking of my other and swiping it slowly through the air, I gasp and bite my bottom lip as if I was suppressing excitement from the colour of _her_ jacket, "Where did you get it?" I ask her as I lean my weight more upon the high-desk, to which I can now even catch a glimpse at the lanyard of campus-keys which is loosely tangled beside her keyboard.

The blonde woman cranes her neck up at me from the comfort of the office chair which she sits upon, causing the blonde locks of her's to fall down the plastic backing – Where as my own, was only brushed for the first time in a week, this morning.

She tuts and rolls her eyes with a giddy grin at her own foolery, "You know – I only found it in my closet a couple of weeks ago. I guess I must have impulsively bought it a long time ago and stupidly forgotten about it."

My sarcasm is twining around me like coiled and broken veins – Possibly mimicking the snapping of my twisted heartstrings... Thanks to her cheating Husband and her own cheating lips for doing the same to my own Mother's heart too.

I laugh low and shake my head, "Hm, actually..." I sigh, now furrowing my brows as if I was deeply thinking, "I think I had one just like it–"

Suddenly, the door to my Father's office smacks open and the blinds upon the window, smack loud enough to pull my attention over to the opening and the balding, tubby man standing within it, with an extended finger and a furious expression upon his wrinkling face.

 _"You."_ He snaps to me, then swapping his pointed finger for an extended thumb which he darts over his right shoulder, " – In my office, now."

My smile of pure snide falls to the floor as if that same anchor from before was no longer tied around my waist but instead, sewn into the corners of my dry lips.

I feel like a kid who has been caught with a hand in the cookie jar, but they already have crumbs upon their pudgy cheeks to give them a harsher punishment.

_If only I wasn't trying to inflate my own wicked ego and just did what I came here to do instead, before he saw me with the ready pen in my pensive grip._

Percy finally looks up from his phone and sucks a sharp breath through his teeth as he smacks a friendly hand upon my shoulder, "That doesn't sound good," He chimes, trying to fight the smirk upon his thin lips as he walks to the row of chairs to the side, "I'll wait out here."

The pain returns with a vengeance for my own cruelty – _This world surely hates me._

My thoughts swirl into incoherent jumbles, fragments of stupid rationality warring with the irrationality of happenstance. A useless litany of schemes, stubbornly playing out in far-fetched fabrications, tumbling over the straight facts and falling through the ribbon of intense anxieties.

It doesn't help my case when I pull the office door closed and my eyes catch onto Rachel Mathews' who takes a seat near Percy, with a leather handbag folded beneath her arm of jewellery and shine.

Had she told my Father already about what _was_ happening between Mr. Ren and I – Surely not. The poems haven't even been submitted to the publishing house yet... _Oh God,_ I forgot about that damn poem!

Though, why should I care? It's just another way to get kicked out of this soul-wrecking campus, where every corner and brown brick, remind me of him to the point where it feels like I am in the trappings of his brown eyes – _And I want out._

All these wonders swirl like a hurricane in my head as I finally sit back in the chair in-front of my Father, who wears all black today – All _but_ his grey tie, which I wish I could tear from his neck and shove it into my mouth, just to keep the trembling, clinging to anything but my voice and tongue.

"What seems to be the issue, Father?"

The balding man who I had always known to only wear suits, groans and rolls his blue eyes to the back of his head as he adjusts his tie and falls lazily in his leather chair, behind the overly large desk of papers and a golden name tag, as the shine of his head, lines in-front of the multiple awards hung up on the wall behind him.

"You –" He repeats with that scolding voice of his as he narrows his eyes upon me and the clothes that I had uncaringly thrown together, "You are the issue." He says, striking me harshly with a different twist of conversation – From the last time that I sat before him, where he praised me for my poem... Which was about Kylo Ren.

_My blood runs cold and the tears threaten to rise once again._

I shake my head and scoff to my palms as I inspect the creases in the skin, rather than give my Father the satisfaction of knowing that he is disappointed in me, once again – But what for this time?

"That's nothing new, coming from you." I mumble beneath my breath, to which he just scoffs at but never-less, ignores.

"Why has it been brought to my attention, that you haven't been going to your course classes... For three weeks?!" He yells as he slams a fist upon the hardwood of his desk, causing his name-plate to rattle and for me to flinch.

Though, my life had shattered in the fall from the china cabinet of the population, the toughness of the world resumed after that confirmation, that delicate and fragile love was never in the cards for me. This college was becoming too much to handle. I avoided Mr. Ren with every twist and turn of the hallways and I hadn't shown up in his class, although, on the first day back I did wait at the locked door, wondering if I had the strength to knock upon it and see his face again... But ultimately, the pain was too much to handle.

Through the hazy fit of tears, I had seen it clearly. I don't want to be here anymore and I was ready to sign the resignation and withdrawal forms, right before my own sinister tongue began to twist and before my Father interrupted.

"I had other things to worry about." I shrug as the waves of sadness begin to make my feet cold. I can feel the tides swaying inwards, the way it does every-time that I have a short break away from the icy chill.

I glance back up to him, to see the way the words swipe across his face and he shakes it as if I had personally slapped him, "You have other things to worry about..." My Father grits though his white teeth as he cocks his head to the side, "That's very strange – The only thing you should be worried about, is passing this course and by the looks of it, you're about two inches away from falling so far behind, I legally cannot keep you in that damn classroom."

The tears rise with a vengeance and I look back down to my hands.

The skin of my wrists was paler than usual and beneath the flesh, the blue spiderweb of veins stand out in sharp contrast to the splutter of goosebumps which rise along them as I recall the way Mr. Ren's hands would easily curl over the bone and squeeze.

To know that Kylo is so close, yet so far from my lips is torture to my churning guts. I almost wish that I had never found out, I wished that I was still kept away from the light in the midst of an affair, where the only emotion I struggled with, was fear... _The fear of losing him._

And I did – Although, he was never truely mine to begin with.

When my hands begin to shake uncontrollably, I tighten them into fists and turn my head to the large bookshelf which towered upon the right wall. Filled to the brink with books and the bindings of pages, I try to focus on a title but my own mind just keeps bringing me traitorously back to Kylo Ren.

My dreams flick through the memories like the turning of thin paper and my nightmares tear them out of the bindings, scrunch them up and throw them away... But it is my heart which bookmarks the pages where it all ended and highlights the moment when Kylo said that he, _needed me._

_Why could he possibly need me?_

I shake my head as the lump in my throat, only grows in size and turn back to my Father, proving the sadness in my eyes.

"See – That's the exact reason I am not going." I say, forcing a smirk upon my face but it quivers into something else as I try to mask my pain with taunt, "And besides, I'm not _that_ far behind, it's not my fault if everyone in that class are... _Cheaters."_

"Or maybe, they're just hard workers." He quickly interjects, then halting his next words as his blue eyes survey me, sitting so frail in the chair before him.

My Father knits his light eyebrows together and sighs as he slowly uncurls his own fists and rubs his temples with two fingers, "Why are you doing this?"

All at once, the sadness awoke from the darkness of my chest and soared through my veins. It was a poison to my spirit, dulling and killing off all other emotions until it was the only one that remained, so torturously. It was as if a black mist had settled upon my shoulders and refused to shift, and no matter how bright the day was outside the window to my right, I couldn't feel the sun upon my tender flesh and I refuse to acknowledge the songs of the flying doves.

Everything had blurred since that day and the only thing that I could no longer have, was the thing that could bring it back into focus – _That way he always would._

I bite the inside of my cheek, finally meeting my Father's _concerned_ gaze, "Doing what?"

"Letting your future go to waste." He said quickly as his shoulders slightly drop, "You've got so much potential in you – So much talent. It kills me inside to watch it wither away. First you don't wish to submit a great poem for a chance at an internship, _which I'm still not allowing you to give up_ – The next, you're not even showing up to class."

Falling silent, I could just make out the strained sounds of my own breathing as I thought back to the days spent, huddled up in my sheets and crying into, punching and cradling my pillow. Even in silence, I somehow sounded disheartened and morose. Every word my Father said was a knife through my already abused heart.

I admit it – I'm struggling. My morals are fighting an endless battle with my passion and my longing. I want to stick to my strong standards and opinions, _after-all,_ look at the way I had treated my Father for years, because of his affair – _And now what?_ My heart is just deciding that maybe, what Kylo did, could be forgotten, so long as I avoid locking eyes with the blonde woman's, who seemed to be the root of all my problems? _No – I can't,_ I have to stand my ground, no matter how much it feels like the world is swallowing me whole from beneath my feet.

"This is your last chance, _sweetheart."_ My Father has a stoic expression on his displeased face, obviously caught up in his own mind, the same way I often do too – And with a last sigh, he blinks slow, knowing what can truely forge me to listen to his words, "Don't just make me proud, make both your _Mother_ and yourself, _proud."_

I trudge out of the office and barely even spare a glance to Rachel Mathews' before nudging my head to the exit when I lock eyes with Percy – Who definitely knew that something was wrong, but stopped pestering me with questions, once he realised how deep rooted this pain, indeed was.

"What did he say?" Percy hushes as he slips his phone into his back pocket and then wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to his side.

I gulp, my stomach knotting itself tightly as the warm air hits our faces, when we finally walk out of the main office and down the stairs to the brick courtyards, where student's walk with books in hands or rush with backpacks tightly gripped.

I hum beneath my breath and raise my hand to his wrist which hangs over my shoulder and curl my fingers into his sleeve, "That I have to start going to class again." I sigh, somewhat content with the comfort of my best-friend, who I will forever be grateful for.

Our feet scuffle on the pavement and Percy rolls his light eyes and laughs behind closed lips, "Hm," He hummed just the same as I did, probably thinking the words, _'I could have told you that,'_ – But instead, all he asks is, "And are you?"

I roll my eyes to him when he turns his head to me and simply gives me a charming smile, "Nope," I say, popping the 'p,' as I carry this weight of of sadness around with me as if it is a drenched towel of water, "There's no point – I'm failing by a landslide and I don't even enjoy the subject anymore..."

Craning my face over his arm and back to the doors to the head-office, I think back to Rachel Mathews – The girl who I had previously assumed to be the greatest threat to Kylo Ren and I's, _relationship._ It doesn't even matter if I never saw Kylo again, what we _did_ , _still_ happened and was _still_ considered immoral, to the point where if the college found out, he would lose his job and my Father would have to relieve me from his campus to spare himself the embarrassment.

I almost laugh – Sounds like a win-win situation in my fate. If Rachel lets the truth slip, then my Father wouldn't be deemed such an incredible Chancellor and Mr. Ren would have his biggest fear come true... _Being exposed. Being vulnerable._

For some reason, in the midst of all this pain, the idea excited me, puzzled me, and intrigued me, all at once. I feel like this is the shift in every novel, when the protagonist starts to notice the affect that the antagonist had left upon them.

When I'd read novels, I used to wonder how could someone so cold have such a thrilling lust for life? But now that it's only time before either my grades fail to the point of expulsion, or Rachel Mathews snitches on what has really twined me so dangerously into this world of grey – I understand that stripping away most emotions and leaving both cheaters with the pain that I wallow in now, seem like a deserving fate.

After-all, I had said it to Mr. Ren myself, _'Why am I the only one that is hurting?'_

I turn back but keep my feet glaring at my shoes, which sync up to the pacing of Percy's upon the brick pavement, "I have just got to wait for the final straw to snap and then finally, I'll be out of here." I say, then biting softly upon my bottom lip.

"Well, about that..." Percy drawled slowly, causing me to lift my head immediately back to him and widen my eyes to force him to continue,"If you want to get, _'out of here,'_ I was going to ask you if you wanted to come with me tomorrow night..."

In the powerful, hazel eyes, there was a certain shine that danced within the colour. I could see how it came from deep inside to lighten his eyes the way they would, and then spread into every part of him as his pale cheeks tinted red in a moment of sincerity. I huffed a small laugh and shook my head, "What's tomorrow night?"

He shrugs, still keeping his arm around my frame in a friendly way,, "Just a little gathering..."

I groan and roll my eyes for the hundredth time today as Percy begins to walk me into the direction of my dorm-complex, knowing full well that I have forced myself into that confining for weeks, and yet, all I want is to go back again.

"Where and with who?" I groan, already knowing who he was about to say.

It was a sunlit day of late spring, and the sky held a soft blue glow. Our feet smacked against the grounds and the water-sprinklers lightly sprayed us as it jetted over the green grass in the middle of the courtyards, which we crossed.

"James' place," Percy tuts, "And just his group from school."

I chuckle, but again, my smile feels tight and my laughter, forced, "So, you actually mean, your foolish friends from High School, who always snuck out onto the football oval every Saturday night and got absolutely wrecked on cheap beer... _That group?"_

"Yes, that group."

"I'll pass." I chime, turning away from his face and finally looking straight ahead, instead, "Thank you, though."

 _"I thought that'd be your answer."_ Percy sighs, but I'm no longer listening as my body is washed cold as if I had been directly hit by the sprinkler's spray.

Once again the gravity pulls me into his eyes – But the darkness of the brown, resembles the sinister intentions of the wrecking ability of the powerful battle that takes place upon the cracks of my heart.

He walks along the path, heading our way, bringing the chill with him as if the winds follow him everywhere, to lightly sway his long, black hair in-front of those soul-consuming, pink lips of his.

Silent but hurtful gasps like sobs grind up my chest but there are no tears. I have wept enough for Kylo Ren and am now dry inside, cold and desolate like a desert at night, all windswept sand and emptiness.

With his folder only held in one large hand, I think back to the way it used to slide along the curves of my body instead. Mr. Ren took a careful and analytical look at me – Most likely noticing that my hair was messier than usual and that I had dark circles where the hallowing of my eyes are, which are both clear indicators that I wasn't sleeping at all.

My eyes were full of fiery rage but at the same time, they were somehow empty – I knew he could see this too. My heart rate accelerated and not because of my new desire to create distance between us, _rather than minimise it,_ but because even beneath the craving to flee the heat of his gaze and burrow back in my own freezing life of heartbreak, there was also still a twitch in my feet which wanted to carry myself into his arms.

When there's only a small space between us as we almost brush shoulders, I can hear the shuddered way he sucks a breath in, and turns his face to me as do I, to him. Another wave thrashes over me, but this time it isn't clear, ice water – It is the same colour as the hidden emotion in the depth of Kylo's eyes.

I can see it in the split of a second. I can understand it in a tense heartbeat. But just like that dark colour, I refuse to utter the knowing of pain in which he too, holds – For it sits upon both of us like a grieving cloak of silence.

I hate what he has done to me. He is smothering me with this cloak that we both wear and share – This cloak of longing agony.

Though, when he turns his head away from me and hides the eyes of his, I can finally see that he isn't only sharing something with me, but he is also wearing his own ring of silver, which he twirls around the end of his forth finger with his thumb.

The reminding band of silver was his attempt at trying to forget me, something which I hadn't even tried to do with him. " _Actually –"_ I turn back to Percy, "What time were you planning on going?"


	22. TWENTY-ONE

The plastic covering flicks against the visor with a loud snap as my polished fingers pry it open with the silent hush of my sudden anxieties. 

The vanity mirror in the passengers side of Percy's car might as well be shattered for the way my eyes lurk back to me, doesn't seem as if they belong upon my face. I don't look like myself – And not just because I have covered every imperfection with a thick layer of make-up, but because where my soul once shined, seems to have even dimmed the gleam of my irises and the blood beneath my flesh, seems to have forgotten how to prick to my cheeks so warmly. 

By holding my cold fingertips upon the, _what-should-be,_ grey of my under-eyes, I hope my icy-chill can freeze the tears, just for one night – But once my chin begins to tremble at the person looking back at me, it doesn't take long before that murk in my gaze, begins to drown beneath the glaze which sits upon my waterline. 

The breath I sharply inhale, shakes and quivers in the silence, the same way a rock would skip upon the surface of a pond – But this tremendous _grief_ that my own ignorance has cursed me with, isn't merely a still pond, it's a thrashing and violent ocean, where storms rise and hurricanes wreck havoc, and the pain isn't just a rock which creates the rippling movement, it's a giant boulder which only crushes me beneath the tides. 

All for _pleasure_ , I have been gifted nothing but _pain._ I thought once, that I found pleasure in the pain, but only now do I realise that there is nothing to compare between either of their treacherous differences. Kylo Ren, my _fucking_ Professor, snatched the pleasure away, the moment when his lies were brought into the sunlight, which hid behind his thick and brooding clouds – And now that his clouds are gone and the warmth of the sun has returned, the only thing that he left me with, is burning and ferocious pain.

I shouldn't have even come. I should be back in my dorm, tucked tightly into my stiff bed, crying into the pillows where his fingers once gripped into...

I shake my head and curl my hands into the parting of my thighs when I see Percy finally make his way from out of the gas-station and back to his car, which I patiently wait in, with tears drying in my eyes and cold drinks upon my knees which are safely hidden into a crinkled, paper bag. 

"Alright –" Percy practically sings as he huffs into the drivers side and punches his keys into the ignition, twisting the engine on in one motion before turning his bright face to mine, "You ready?" He asks, cocking a dark brow. 

_No –_ And he knows that too, and yet, he still doesn't pressure me into talking about it. 

I force a tight smile onto my face, masking the devouring melancholy, "Yes," I lied. 

The air felt so suffocating as Percy lightly tapped his thumbs upon the steering wheel to his music, that it could resemble the static of a hot summer night, where my limbs are twisting in the heated bedsheets, flipping my pillows over and searching for refreshing air. I feel nauseous and I haven't even sipped from one of the alcoholic drinks that I hold against my legs, and I don't plan on drinking from them either – I didn't wish to take the chance of smothering the pain, only for it to intensify with the deceiving mask of intoxication. 

I begin to chew on my bottom lip when I start to recognise the neighbourhood streets that Percy turns down, familiarising my settings to be affiliated with the many times that I had foolishly joined Percy with his dimwitted friends, _much like tonight,_ to James Green's house – A boy who, at one point, I had to battle with to maintain my title of Percy's best-friend, in high-school

Percy's hand-break clicks in the soft silence of a quiet engine and his truck halts against the curb, facing James Green's childhood home – Which by the looks of it, seems to be missing the strict parents of his, who had always owned matching cars of blue, but only one is parked in the driveway which is now littered with rubbish, silver cans and red cups. 

My best-friend steps out of the car quickly after pulling the bag from off my legs and rattling the bottles when he chucks his keys into the bag with his drinks – He had promised that he would pay for the taxi home, after-all, I was probably a worse driver, sober, than he was when he's blind on the affects of alcohol. 

I sigh and fix my hair once more, refusing to look into the hidden depths of my eyes, before meeting him outside his car, facing the large home, where many other people are beginning to walk into – Although, they are unfamiliar to me. 

To say the house was opulent would be an understatement. It was on the border between modern comforting or futuristically sharp. Neon lights flashed rhythmically through the tall, glossy windows and the freshly-cut lawn was beginning to be trampled into dirt. It took everything in me when Percy flashed an excited smile as we walked to the front door, not to grimace in unease.

My feet felt stiffer than they ever had as they were shoved tightly into a pair of black, heeled boots that I hadn't worn for a while. My toes throbbed whilst my ankles ached and the rest of my body was painted with goosebumps as the night's air casted upon my flesh. 

The music that came from inside was so loud that it made my skin tingle and my lungs feel like mush. The bass thumped in time with my heartbeat as though they were one, filling me from head to toe with music. A clump formed in my throat and I couldn't tell if that was due to the heavy chords or nervous bile that threatened to spill.

Regret immediately flooded my stomach and chest, but I brushed the feeling aside, blaming it on nerves – I hadn't seen anyone from my high-school, _other than Percy,_ since graduation... But even though so much time had passed since then, I knew for certain that everyone I have seen so far outside, didn't go to Percy and I's school.

"Percy?" I suddenly utter as our feet click down the path to the front-door.

"Yeah?" He hums as I turn to look at him, seeming much taller than I usually was.

I furrow my brows and curl my right hand around the strap of my small handbag, "You said this was going to be a small gathering with only your friends from high-school..." I say slowly, my eyes now shifting to the unrecognisable faces, "– Meaning the people that I know too." I add, hoping he gets the message that I am conveying. 

Heels or not, Percy still stood tall beside me, but his shoulders are hunched together like he was trying to disappear inside himself upon my words. Even his dark eyes seemed to be attempting to retreat inside his head. 

"Ah, well..." He slowly drawled, trying to fight my apprehensions with a small smile but he would have resembled a white sheet of paper, if it weren't for all the freckles that stained his face, and that didn't give me much hope, "I suppose they invited more people?" He shrugged, but I could tell that he knew this was going to happen. 

My lips twitch and I bite down on the inside of my cheek harshly, though attempt to hide it with a quick nod of my head – But Percy can read me like a novel.

He stops walking and grabs my elbow to turn me in my tracks to face him, "Listen –" He sighed, then stopping his words to adjust the paper bag in his other hand before continuing with sincerity lacing his deep and comforting voice, "If you're not feeling up to it, tell me and I'll take you back to your dorm... I don't mind, I know that something is going on with you right now and I don't want to make anything worse."

Looking into eyes which in the night, could mimic the dark ones of the man who had left me so broken in such a short amount of time – The sadness flowed through my veins once more to remind me and deadened my mind as the music softly plays in the distance. The reminder was a poison to my spirit, tearing at my bones and ripping what was left of my heart into smaller pieces. 

But despite it all, I simply gave my honest and charming best-friend a closed-smile, "I can't get any worse." I shrug. 

Walking in, the heat was only shoved onto my frame, hot enough to pluck sweat to my palms which both now gripped my bag strap as I stayed close to Percy's side as he leads me through the messy bodies and deeper into the remarkable home. The music was much louder than I had previously imagined it could be from only outside, it resembled thunder as it shook the room and it made all the red cups on the tabletops rattle and some even fell to their sides, the liquid pooling out and dripping to the hardwood floor which also vibrated beneath our feet. 

Sweaty bodies were crammed into the house, constantly moving and dancing as we brush shoulders and hobble around the lack of space. Another random face that I had never seen before, stops dancing to hand me a filled, red cup within moments of arrival and I try to decline her offer but she already turns back around, and leaves me to continue walking behind Percy, now gripping onto the cup which was stained at the brim by her lipstick.

Even away from the main area where the music is the loudest, people stumble around from every direction, slurring their words and giggling at anything. It seemed everyone here was already drunk, and I suddenly felt like I was sticking out like a sore thumb as I place the full cup on a table.

Over the roar of music, a distant, hazy chatter could be heard. I couldn't make out any words, but laughter rang in my ears and wouldn't seem to stop.

I knit my eyebrows together as I now use my free hand to clip around Percy's bicep as I ask him over the roar of the party, "Where are we going?!"

Percy yells just as much as I do, but nobody but the pair of us can hear, "Just trying to find James first." He says, to which I nod at and when Percy notices someone that he recognises, he taps them on the shoulder lightly and asks where he might be able to find the host of this grinding and boisterous party.

Grabbing my hand and pulling me in any direction, now trying to find the kitchen as we push our way through the crowd. It had taken at least ten minutes to actually navigate our way through the sweaty bodies and I soon start to feel my neck glisten with my own, as my hair sticks to my skin. 

Just walking through such a crowd, makes my breathing rapid and shallow. I can feel my pulse pounding in my temples and wrists. It's a relief to finally focus on anything but the white of my walls, but the kaleidoscope of raging colours gives me the fear of the silence which is to come, after this party has died.

The kitchen resembled the rest of the house but was much more crowded as all of the drinks were submerged in ice buckets among the white marble counters, which were polished with a sticky film of knocked liquids. Endless rows of cupboards were opened, revealing nothing but empty, crushed cans and couples sat at the stools beside the island bench with their arms wrapped around each-other whilst their lips locked – My heart cramps at the sight and my lips feel suddenly so cold, craving the taste that it had become addicted to.

When Percy notices that my grip around his arm had tightened whilst my other, fidgeted by my side with uncertainty, he dipped his hand into his paper bag and handed me a lukewarm bottle of mixed vodka, where even the packaging was enough to make my stomach swirl with high-school regrets, but I was thankful for the excuse to take a moment to compose myself after forgetting about my previous morals and twisting the cap off, to take a grateful swig – Only to start coughing a moment later at the taste which I had purposely forgotten.

There were more roars of laughter and calls for many toasts as both Percy and I, glanced around the kitchen, where someone said that James would be. Introductions were made, hands were shook, and connections established, but only when Percy's eyes locked with the blond boy across the room, who began to make his way over, did he truely begin to feel the tingles of excitement. 

"James!" Percy waved and then clapped his hand on the blond man's shoulder as I swayed on the balls of my feet, awkwardly – Oh, how I'd like to be anywhere but here... Perhaps, even laying on Mr. Ren's Wife's side of the bed _– No!_

I turned the bottle in my hand around, pretending to be focussed on the fine-detailed writing, rather than the memory of my Professor's smile. Half-emptied now, it was a cheap brand of vodka, nothing to ensure a tumble, but this one drink wasn't what made my knees shake and my lips part as my mind only drifted and drif–

"Hey!" James' attention finally turned to me, whilst simultaneously pulling mine back into reality, "I must say, I didn't think that I'd see you here." 

James Green was a boy, who had looked like a man since the day he turned 14. He was exceptionally blond but there was a slight red to the tinge upon his jaw and around his thin lips. With eyes of emerald green, they only remind me of the many days spent in high-school, envying him and his ties to Percy, who enjoyed football as much as he did – And like an angry Wife at only the age of 15, I remember always wishing to scream at Percy after feeling as if he had been unfaithful to me, on those days that he would smell of nothing but the grass of the football field. 

I bite down the pain _– Look at me now –_ I think to myself at that memory, but despite my inner monologue and the battle of emotions, I grin to the blond boy and cock my head to the side, faking a sarcastic and happy tone, "And why not?" I ask James, my bright voice being nothing but a snide to the darkness in my chest. 

James Green takes a large gulp from the can of beer that he held in his left hand, crushing the can afterwards and dropping it uncaringly by his side, "Aren't you majoring in Literature this year at your Father's college?" He finally says in a questioning tone as Percy stands to the side of us, finally beginning to pull one of his own drinks out.

Taken aback, I am sure that in the last months of high-school, I may have mentioned to James my chosen course, but was still sober to be shocked that he had remembered, "Yes?" I utter slowly, my smile only falling for a short moment as the perplexion begins to settle at the bottom of my drink. 

But with James Green's next words, it makes sense that he had somehow remembered – Though, it only keeps me questioning some more. 

"My older cousin is in that course, she says it's really difficult and involves a lot of studying." He nods, genuinely interested as the music only turns up louder in the distance.

An older cousin? James was my age and I had thought that everyone in my class was the same age too, who could possibly be older?

"Older?" I repeat, knitting my brows tightly together but keeping my grin bright, "Who's your cousin?" I ask him nicely. 

"Her name is Rachel Mathews?" James yells when the music begins to smother our conversation and flick it out of the heavy air, "She's got blonde hair, she's pretty short and sh–"

His words begin to muffle as my mind sharp points to Rachel Mathews and her sinister soul as the rage begins to cover the heartbreak.

I suddenly feel like the small glasses of vodka on the kitchen bench, are not the only shots being thrown tonight, for I feel a powerful and forceful blow to my chest with the revelation and reminder of the horrible girl in my class, who I loath entirely. 

"Oh, yeah..." I hum, rolling my eyes to which James doesn't even notice but I'm certain that Percy would have. "Rachel. I know her," I try to cover my laced tone and force myself back into the conversation, but the moment that James opens his mouth again to speak, I cut him off. 

"– What do you mean older?" I question, my hand gripping tightly around the neck of the bottle, "Is she not our age?"

James tries to speak again, but this time it isn't me who cuts his words short, it is the pair of girls who's heels click loudly as they move to the table beside us and begin to mix their drinks into another, taller cup. 

Percy and I, both scoff simultaneously – Knowing exactly, where that gets you. 

Then turning back to James, I urge him to continue whilst my mind wheels back to Rachel Mathews, hoping desperately for a tiny piece of information that I could use to my victimised advantage. 

The blond boy's smile returns and maybe even a slight blush, before he shakes his head and speaks again, "No, she went on a year break after high-school and then, I think she was majoring in another course before she decided to also switch to Literature this year."

_Nothing much, but it's still something –_ Though, I must say, it is mind blowing that she can't even seem to act her age. I can't believe that James Green was her cousin, _I honestly feel bad for him._ I narrow my eyes upon him as Percy takes his chance to fill the stillness of our own conversation. He doesn't look like her, but I can't help to stare at the red upon his cheeks which begins to fade... Could I use James to get the dirt of Rachel and ultimately, her off my back?

I want to cut off Percy and smack James with multiple questions: _Has she ever committed a crime? What's her biggest secret? Do you know anything remotely embarrassing about her? Did she ever–_ Suddenly, one of the girls to my left, crashes right into me and sends her full drink to spill all over my arm and the front off my shirt. Liquid slowly soaks into my clothes and fabric begins to stick to my chest of broken hauntings. 

My mouth falls and my eyes harden as I glare to the stumbling girl who rambles apologies and even, brims a few tears. Percy's mouth stretches to the side as he tries to fight the laughter he so desperately wants to burst into, but instead he pulls his sleeve to his fingers and tries to press it onto the sticky mess upon my collarbones and neck.

"It's okay – It's okay." I assure her, even though I quite literally, want to tip the rest of my drink upon her head. I move Percy's hand away from me and thank him shortly before turning back to James and sighing, "Where's the bathroom?" 

The feeling of un-belonging became even more unbearable than before. There was nothing else I wanted to do more than be home, hiding under my duvet like it was some sort of shield and the white walls around me, my homely cage. 

My heart is pounding fast and my blood starts to feel as if it is thickening in my veins – The pain is returning, I can feel it. 

I begin to push myself back into the tight crowd, almost holding my breath as though I was submerged in water, unable to breathe until I finally trudge up the stairs, feeling the raging heat of intense closure, leaving the stickiness of my skin.

I was pleasantly surprised to find the bathroom rather quickly and that it was empty nor was there a line leading to it. The room smelt of urine and of bitter alcohol as bundles of toilet paper was spread throughout the small space like a never-ending ribbon. I practically slam the door closed behind me and lean against the sink as the anxiety begins to set in the quiet, lonely space.

Just like I did in Percy's car, not so long ago, I look at myself in the mirror and immediately notice a girl who looks lost. I wish that I could hide in the bathroom until the party ends and the getaway taxi is called. The small space felt as if it was a safety point and the outside was a vicious game of hiding what monster wrecks havoc behind my mask of merriment.

After staring into the waves of my eyes, I groan and tightly clench them closed before turning around and tearing a couple of pieces of toilet-paper off the rack, then turning back and soaking it beneath the tap's warm water. 

I wipe the soggy paper in circular motions over my shirt but the cheap paper just leaves white flakes sprinkling the black.

Frustration builds but there is no way it can be spent unless it decides to wobble in my chin or curl upon the sweat of my palms. No matter how hard I wipe both wet and dry paper across my skin, it won't remove the sticky film from my skin nor could it coax my heartbeat to slow. 

Giving up, when I make my way back to the door and my hand meets the silver knob, I am nearly knocked off my feet as I have to quickly jump back when the bathroom door is opened before I could have even done it myself. 

He walks in and we lock eyes, the party falling to an intense silence as the only sound both of us now listen to, is the sharp wavering of our bellowed breaths. 

When the shock fades and he grins from ear to ear – He gives a smile which is drunken perhaps, but there is something in those eyes which is amused beyond intoxication, tingling like the stars shine in a dark coating of night. 

He exhales out the breath that he tried to hold and the alcohol mixed with his musk, feels as if it is enough to catch fire upon the embers of my heart. My whole body felt as if I had just jumped into a pool which was filled with pin-needles or jagged shards of paper.

I swallowed the blunt lump in my throat and it slipped down into the bubbles of my awoken stomach – My hands trembled and my legs felt as if they were about to give out as my voice only too, quivered, when I finally broke the silence of many months...

_"Leo?"_


	23. TWENTY-TWO

My heart is pounding against my chest which cramps every-time I inhale, but I still feel as if I cannot breathe around the tight grip of guilt. There is a tiny voice in the back of my mind and it taunts me with hurtful whispers and with regretful tales. It's telling me to stop and remember all the pain he had given to me, but he is the only thing that is making me forget about the present hurt, which leaves my heart, ravaged and refined.

Now that he's so close and the taste of his skin is clouding the taste that I truely long for, I can't even remember how we had gotten here or what exactly lead me into the back of Leo Grey's car, but he's here, right now, and it's my hands which are only pulling his face closer to my lips, which crash to his so desperately.

There is a pulse. A loud and beating pulse, and it's his, though it sits in my own ears as I let my neck fall back and my eyes roll as Leo begins to slide his tongue along my jaw before sucking sharply on the skin below my ear. 

I straddle Leo upon the leather seats of his own backseat, the same seats that he had lured the girl he had once cheated on me with to, on the night of senior prom. I'm not drunk, but I might as well be with all this foolery. Leo's scent lingers in the night and lays upon my lips the same way bitter beer might grasp upon senses, I pull away after our lips collide again, and allow my lungs to catch and tremble around the musk, the tang, the memory-like sense itself. 

He gropes me like a teenager would cling onto a budding breast for the first time, excited and filled with something less tangible than lust, perhaps just stimulated to the point where even he doesn't think about anything but the tent in his own pants. 

"So it is true..." He whispers between bellowed breaths before I lean back in and interlock our wet lips once again, "College really does change someone's sex-drive."

My hands curl into his hair, but I find that there are already knots in there that even I didn't cause and the locks are not as soft as the ones which my fingers truely twitch to twine into, "What's that supposed to mean?" I shudder as Leo's hands fall from my waist and to his belt with twitching, _smaller,_ hands. 

"Ah," He groans as I nip the skin below his jaw with my teeth lightly, "Y-You never used to be this... _Confident?"_

I know what he really wishes to say is experienced, I can almost taste the word upon his own tongue as I try to silence him again, just like I had the moment he walked into the bathroom and tried to small-talk me as if we didn't have so much history between us. 

I also know that I don't truely want this. I can feel the churning and twisting of my own stomach, which feels the same as it does when you're in line for a rollercoaster that you really don't want to go on, but your adrenaline from the last one isn't willing your feet to move away from the queue. 

But the gut wrenching churn of guilt and indisposed incline is strong enough to mask the heartbreak the same as an Advil would hide away a migraine, and kissing Leo is like taking four Advil's dry with no water. 

Leo's all too familiar. The sharp features, blue eyes, the clashing waves of a golden brown hair which was neatly flicked back into long tousles and even the rose of his lips which match the tan and perfect skin of his – It is all so reminding of a time where he was nothing but _mine._

There's a sudden pressure, a genuine, piercing pain that spread throughout the mess of my chest and makes a curling nest from the shattering of my heart as I brokenly exhale at the sight of Leo, who though he wasn't drunk either, seemed intoxicated from the very way I stared, as his eyes glaze over when they met mine. 

In one quick second, I blink and the moment my eyes open once more in that same nano-second, his eyes have turned brown, the golden waves have burned into black and his skin has faded so pale, but a constellation of alluring freckles have sprouted upon his cheeks. It's devastating enough to allure a sharp gasp from my lips, in the moments before it fades, but it isn't familiar. It's new and the wound is only fresh before Kylo Ren dangerously tries to heal and twist back into Leo Grey in a flash.

He sees it before I even have time to react casually and cover the surprise before blue eyes are once again staring back into my own, beneath the glow of the moon which barely seeps through the tint of his car windows.

"What's the matter?" He asks, in that voice of his that I once wished to hear in that subtle whisper for the rest of my life, but now... It just sounds wrong. So high-pitched even though it is deeper than most, but not deeper than the bass-like tone of, _his._

No longer can I hear his erratic and diligent heart, but now my own is practically about to pound through my chest and fall into his hands which snap off the silver buckle of his belt and rest upon my thighs, burning into the space which I only left for Mr. Ren.

"Nothing," My own voice breaks through, and it's also _so_ wrong, "I'm fine. _I-I'm good."_

My own voice stalls the frazzled, pounding, lulling, the indeterminate, arrhythmic excuse for pulsation in my chest for the space between breaths before it spurs something, shifts it all so swiftly – And yet, still, it stutters in that same way that I always would when I was a teenager who had the _biggest_ crush on the boy beneath me.

The night was a special kind of blackness, the kind that wants only to hold the stars and help them shine all the brighter while only hiding the bad decisions made in the backseat of his car as I straddle him so false amorously. Steam was softly fogging upon the windows, where old fingerprints sprouted in the wet mist as if the stars were a led-light. 

Leo's blue eyes narrow in the pale light whilst his breath is only adding to the unbelievable warmth in the small space of his car, and then my heartbeat faltered, for Leo gave me that little crooked smile. That boyish smile that was permanently embedded into the walls of my defences the way a wanted sign would hang upon the walls of a castle. 

I could see everything in that one smile of his – All the memories coming back to me in that mere teasing glance. He bit his bottom lip lightly to try and not let the corners of his mouth grow any wider, but even with the tug of white, the red only stretched and stretched as his eyebrows too, raised, when he asked, 

"You're good?"

The repeated word is enough to swipe away all of the hazy masking of the intoxication as the memories sunk in painfully and swept up all my shattered edges, only to flick the glass of my heart, back upon my skin, one by one.

But despite the pain and the tears which rise so traitorously, I nod, "I'm good." I say again, my teeth too, biting down on my bottom lip which threatens to even tremble.

I can feel the bitterness snap back and it pricks in my fingertips, and immediately, I flinch my hands from off his shoulders, but his own only move closer to my face to brush a strand of hair from out of my eyes, which close at the touch, letting the memories only flick like pages turning in a photo-album. 

I can remember sitting upon his thighs nearly every Friday when we would drive to the lookout that he loved, I can remember the first time I ever exposed myself before him, I can taste the hatred that I drank upon for the many months after our break-up on my tongue and all at once, I realise that I am only going through what I had with Leo, only this time, it is with my Professor instead and the pain of the falling out, is more intense. 

Leo knows that something is wrong, he can see it in the glimmer of the tears in my eyes and the way that I now refuse to look at him with them as the swirl of guilt in my stomach only grows like the thrashing of acidic waves. 

"You're lying," He tuts lowly as he curls his fingers around my ear slowly and inspects the disgruntled features upon my darkened face, "I can tell." He adds.

Outside the window where I now focus my attention as the heat rises to my reddening cheeks, the leaves dare to rustle at a distance. I can't hear them, but the undulation of their motion in the breeze is hypnotising to my sudden infuriation at myself for attempting to solidify a certain disregard or neglect for what Leo Grey had done and all the work that it took to put myself back together, only for Kylo Ren to break me again. 

How could I let myself forget about what Leo Grey had done, so easily? I shake my head and slide off his lap to sit in the seat beside him, leaning against the window and glaring at the moon as the mockery bickers in my own thoughts, adding insults like arrows shot from the heartstrings of mine. 

I bite back the snide tone of mine but my gesture was enough to prove my distaste as I move his hand away as it reached back out to me. 

"You can't tell shit. You hardly even knew me when we were dating." I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest as the silence of the night begins to consume my rage. 

I turned to face him again and no longer was there the hint of lust swirling in the blues of his eyes like they did in the harsh illumination that was casting down upon him in the claustrophobic bathroom, only moments ago. Leo Grey swallowed down a hard lump in his throat and I watched as the chills spread across the skin of his arms, which were no longer twined around my back. 

He chuckled a disbelieving laugh only once, before shaking his head to himself and returning my gaze, "Maybe so, but I do remember the way you looked after the break-up." He uttered with creasing eyebrows of concentration, as if he was looking back to that prom night instead of at me, "You have that look on your face even now – That glass mask that you wear when you're trying to glue yourself together but the porcelain is cracking with every fake smile."

I froze and all my harsh words were only shoved back into the fire in my chest, which died the moment he spoke his truth so clearly. The car and night became suddenly, frighteningly silent, as my eyes widened whilst my brain ran wild. 

Leo knew that he had struck a certain nerve of mine, the silence was the first sign but the singular tear that ran down my cheek was enough to grant veracity. It didn't hurt because he spoke those words of his so boldly, it hurt because he spoke nothing but the truth. 

Unspoken feelings hung in the tension like a cement stone on a drowning body. I couldn't say what I wanted to say, I was unable to put any of my racing thoughts into a sentence which could possibly make sense. 

My heart is shattered again – _Yes,_ but it was shattered even before Kylo Ren broke me with his infidelities and lies. I was so broken but I had managed to place every single piece of me back together the same way one might waste time by glueing back together glass, only for the cracks to still show – And these cracks are only a pattern and it seems the true theme is the cheating that surrounds me. First Leo cheating on me on prom night, only to then come home that same night and find out the truth about my Father and his receptionist, who was predictably, Kylo Ren's Wife. 

I'm flawed with cracks and the truth of my impurities and scars are a bit hard to swallow when it is so easily pointed out by one of the men who had first nudged me off the china-cabinet shelf. 

I let my rage burn into tiny embers and watch it float away as the sadness drowns out the heat in my chest, "It's been a long time since then, Leo." I say softly, trying to refuse his remark and ease the tension as it becomes suffocating all so easily. 

Leo sighs and shuffles a little closer as he casually loops his belt back into place and slides comfortably into his seat, sending a whiff of cologne my way to make me dizzy. Something unwelcomed churns in my stomach with unease, making me too, curl tighter into my chair as I fully regret letting myself be this close to Leo Grey, once again. 

"Did you ever end up waiting in that coffee shop?" He whispers, thinking back to a couple of weeks ago, where we both promised to overcome our past and meet in the very place that we had fallen in love in – Which I did go to, only to be stood up and ultimately, pulled further into Mr. Ren's hands. 

I bite my tongue and shake my head, "No," I lie, to spare myself from the embarrassment.

Leo sighs again and turns his head straight forwards so he is staring out the front window, instead of the broken look across my face, "I thought you wouldn't," He admitted, then adding with true honesty, "I didn't wait either."

 _I know that, I waited nearly an hour!_ I want to shout into his face, but ultimately, I just end up shaking my head and going along with my lies.

"Why would I have gone?" I say, trying to spit my words with distaste but it comes out feeble – The bitterness is something internal, the loathing aimed at the past that I haven't seemed to overcome, "– Especially, after what you did." I finish, keeping my eyes trained on the tensing of his jaw. 

He furrows his light brows and turns to me sharply with his features twisting into one of perplexed, "That was a high-school mistake. I have made many of those and I have repeated multiple times, that I am sorry..." He retorts, scoffing and rolling his eyes. 

If I had known that going to this party would lead me back into the sight of my enemies eyes, I would have preferred to stay beneath my heavy sheets as the walls of my dorm slowly close in on me. I didn't wish to hurt anymore, but Leo Grey is only the reminder of all that has been wronged in my life and no matter the fact that I know it was a _high-school_ mistake, and he was only just a teenager, my ignorance cannot forgive nor forget.

"Sorry doesn't cut it." I snap, the rage returning like lightning begin struck upon my feet. 

"No it doesn't, but you know what?" Leo quickly snaps right back, his hand reaching out for mine and tightly grasping onto it to prove the candour of his sudden, bitter words, "I don't care."

My face falls and so does the heat of the air between us as I flinch my hand out of his grip and limply hold it to my chest as if I was trying to hold every shard together for just a bit longer.

"There – I said it," Leo shakes his head as his eyes widen, "I don't care about the past. I know what I did was horrible, but I was stupid and barely even had a grasp on maturity yet. I made a mistake and I learnt from it..." His words slow as he bites his bottom lip at the sight of my trembling chin, only to continue with a much softer tone.

Every emotion is fleeting, every thought gives way to a new one. I can't even remain in one mindset, for I was a surging mess of hurt and sudden denial. There is a heavy weight pressing into my ribs again and all at once, my vision completely blurs, as if my eyes are half closed and I can no longer open them wide enough. 

"And you?" He sighs, "You aren't moving on. You're holding onto the pain and not letting it heal enough to learn from the past."

"It's a bit hard to move on when the same _fucking_ thing keeps hurting me, Leo." I fired back before my silence answered for me, my voice unbearably loud and bouncing in the cramped space of his car, where behind the tinted windows, a party was still wildly springing. 

Leo slightly flinched back at the toxicity of my tone and his eyes darkened as I was sure that I heard my own jaw crack with how much force I was using to clench it. I shook my head, "How dare you try to act as if cheating is just a common thing that happens? If you really loved me, then you wouldn't have hurt me!"

It's as if both of us had just pulled the sheets off our past and the dust was thrown into the air for us to choke on. Leo's eyes slightly glaze over with an emotion that I cannot quite place, for words have always been my forte but not the way they are conveyed merely by expressions – But there is no need for analysing when he utters his next phrase so perfectly into the silence with an assured tone and the shaking of his head. 

"I didn't love you." Leo Grey said. 

I don't dare to move or even breathe, I'm frozen to the spot again. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and the hairs on my arms stand to attention as a thousand chills trickle down my spine. My heart begins to pulsate and the beating only gets louder and louder... 

"What?" I whispered. 

He swallowed again as his eyes shifted to my hands which curled by my sides, "Why else would I have sought after someone else?" He spoke as his eyes met mine again.

"I– I don't understand..." I curled and uncurled my fists a few times, fiery eyes never leaving Leo's. What he said, for once, didn't make sense – Not when I paired them against the many memories that our history strung together with an invisible string that was forever tied around our teenage hearts. 

After a moment too long of tense silence as I awaited the memories to provide reasoning, when Leo doesn't – I can't find anything that leads to the belief that Leo never truely loved me as I had loved him. I scoffed and reached angrily for my purse which was uncaringly thrown by my feet, throwing the strap over my shoulder and coolly searching Leo's face, looking for something, as my hand reached for the door-handle. 

In that familiar face of his, I could see it in everything that I held close to my heart. The nights spent entangled together, the days spent with hearts beating for each-other... I could remember everything, even down to the point where it all died out, but that only meant that it was once alive, and I refuse to believe that he believed his love never existed at all. 

I narrow my eyes and open the car door, spitting out, "Actually, I don't care," Before stepping out of his backseat and storming towards the party once again, but before my heels even click upon the driveway, to my veiled surprise, Leo calls out my name and steps out into the street as-well. 

He was still a few feet away when I stopped in my place but refused to turn back to him, "Cheating isn't just a common thing, it's an escape." He spoke into the night as the sound of the thudding party-music was only softly heard from the littered house in front of me.

_An escape?_

I knit my eyebrows together as my mouth parts lightly and I turn ever-so-slowly, back to Leo Grey.

He stood in the middle of the road, his red car behind him as he held out his arms by his sides and slaps them back down to his thighs as his shoulders drop, "I know it sounds harsh and I don't know what recently left you this way but my infidelity only grew in the spaces were our love died. That girl on prom night, I don't know what I expected to find in her, but I hoped that it could fix the void." His voice suddenly became less confident, more vulnerable as it shook and quivered. 

I sucked a breath into my lungs sharply and only held the air stiffly in my chest for I could feel that same void that Leo spoke of, all too well. 

"You wanted love?" I slowly asked him, my hands uncurling and falling limp by my own sides as a breeze began to rustle through the trees around us, only making it easier to forget about Percy who was still inside the house behind my teenage love, and I. 

"I suppose..." Leo said calmly as he began to take hesitated footsteps closer to me, his hands shoving into the pockets of his jeans as he shrugged, "Though, at that point in my life I was too arrogant and young to even know what love was, so I think the ignorance clouded my judgement and left me lusting after the wrong things. Sort of like a fix, if that makes sense." 

My lips twitch as, yes, his words do make sense to me. I try to give him a nod, but it falters as I feel my heart pang, letting me know that there is still further pain to lace upon its broken state, which still longingly bleeds a radiance, even in the dim of the night. 

"A fix." I repeat lightly to myself, feeling how the word feels upon my own tongue before swallowing it down and letting it melt in the churns of my warm stomach. 

"So she – That girl on prom night – She was your fix?" I ask Leo, no longer rage lacing my tone but simply, questioning – This was the most we had ever spoken about it, I had never truely asked him what had happened that night, for my eyes had seen it all and I didn't wish to torment myself with any lies, but now? I can see that indeed, Leo Grey is filled with nothing but honesty. 

He nodded his head and I only shook mine in return in attempts to shake off the discomfort that settled like rubber bands wrapped around my lungs, the source of which I didn't want to get into. 

"I wanted her to be." Leo answered, now standing only inches away from me with a timid frame and shy eyes, as if I wasn't just sitting upon his lap with my tongue down his throat, _"I needed her to be."_ He added, and with that conclusion, something in me snapped perfectly into place. 

_I need you._

Kylo Ren's voice haunts me and that phrase that he had spoken that time when we shouted in the rain, had always circled wondrously in my mind, trying to find my logic, which never seemed to be able to figure out what it meant – But all at once, Leo Grey, was the one to give me all the answers that I needed. 

Kylo Ren may have taunted me with many lies, but with Leo's revelation about our own relationship, I figure out that my Professor had told me one truth, even if it was hidden beneath all the hidden layers of suppressed... _Desires._

_Kylo Ren didn't love his Wife._

_He needed me._

I bite down on my lower lip and take a breath to force the tears that are pricking at the corners of my eyes, away. I'm not going to let Leo see me cry, not when my pride is the only thing that I have left, and because in all of my own honesty, Leo isn't the man that I truely wallow for. 

I straighten my shoulders, "I–" My stuttering returns but my words are cut off short as my mind doesn't even know what to say with all of this happening – It wants to focus on what Leo Grey is saying, but it can't even care in the slightest when Mr. Ren is the one who has clearly stolen all my thoughts and my whole heart so tenaciously. 

Kylo Ren had manage to rip my whole life away, but I only allowed myself to form a grudge at all this pain because I found that I truely enjoyed the insane escape that he gave to me in return. _And the void_ – That void that Leo mentioned, its clearly haunting me and burning deeper into my chest everyday that I spend without Kylo, growing larger and all-consuming and dreadful to all the parts of myself that he's shaped and grown, to only strip raw and rancid.

I am cracked and shattered, but suddenly, on this fateful night, I realise that I don't want to glue all my edges back together, for the cracks _will_ always shine through. The haunting of Kylo Ren will always echo in my spirit, but they'll eventually fade, just like Leo Grey did, but I could never forget about either of them, regardless of the force behind both of their intentions or the betrayals. 

But as I stand before Leo Grey, I realise that the pair of them were completely different. Leo Grey didn't love me, and he never did... Whereas, perhaps... Kylo Ren wanted to?

So – I find now, that I don't want to forget about Mr. Ren. I don't want to let the pain slowly fade, only for the scars to be the thin and silvery reminder of him.

Just like my Mother, I was a self-proclaimed romantic, though that's not really what it was. Yes, I loved romance and the portrayal of it in books and poems, but I never quite had the patience for anything beyond those paper pages. 

It was more that my Mother and I were obsessed with love and falling into it, though the difficulties that came with it, left us to figure out what _the other half_ had done to tear the pages and leave us stinging with the paper cuts as we run away from the truth, which chases us everywhere we go.

But the thing about chasing is, eventually it catches after you. Eventually you have to fight to make things work. I guess, what Leo Grey has suddenly made me realise, was that my life was never going to be perfect like those poems and fairytales, and to get the pleasure, I must endure the pain first. 

Just like my dusty bookshelf back home, that I had left untouched the moment that my muse escaped the trappings of my lonely heart, those painful memories are books with chapters, deep and horrible, and so I leave them on the shelf to gather dirt and dust. 

I can pick them up if I need to learn something, to gain a perspective that helps me to create my own good story, and only now, does the first page flick open, but it is completely blank, ready for ink to bleed onto the white surface. 

I gasp low to myself and meet Leo's eyes again as my own had shifted to the depths of my clouded mind, "I've got to go." I suddenly say, with a completely rushed tone as the jitters begin to tremble in my bones and the _hope_ soars through my blood.

"What?" Leo chortles, clearly confused at my dismissal for our conversation, which he must have mustered up so much courage to speak so truthfully, "Why?"

I bite lightly on my bottom lip to suppress a nervous grin, _"I have class in the morning."_


	24. TWENTY-THREE

Although, I had barely slept through the night because my brain was constantly wiring together the sentence I will first speak to him, I had come to class, empty minded and empty handed. I felt unprepared and completely riddled with nerves that pricked my skin like little fleas. It was completely disorientating to return, even though I hadn't necessarily been absent from his lessons for _that_ long.

It felt as if I was arriving or standing upon his front porch, begging for something that I was unsure of, though I had forgotten to bring flowers and only when I notice my hands are empty, I notice that I am completely naked too – I'm vulnerable and uncertain. I have completely stripped myself from my morals and left myself without any defences to protect what is left of my broken heart. 

This nervousness is sweat inducing. My palms are so clammy that I keep swiping them on the sides of my pants and even the nape of my neck feels so hot that the hair may be sticking to it. It was as if everyones eyes were a spotlight to my sick intentions and they could see as clearly as I did, that what I was about to do, is completely immoral and unconscionable, and now it wasn't just because Kylo Ren was my Professor, it was because he was a man that I am unethically yearning for, even when I know that he has a Wife. 

I have become what I most hate – A home-wrecker, but in all honesty, I cannot help myself for I truly need Mr. Ren in the most torturous way. He's like an itchy scab that I just cannot scratch for it will open a wound that is far too deadly, but I often find myself reaching for it with twitching fingers... And now, as I gulp and open the classroom door, I make the first scratch and watch the blood draw slowly. 

I wasn't early, but I wasn't late either. The students were scampering to their seats, two friends who I hadn't ever spoken to, understandably taking my absence for granted and sitting comfortably at the table in the back. My feet felt incredibly heavy, as if they were clad in cement shoes or an invisible guardian angel was standing upon them, begging me not to take the first step into the busy auditorium – But the moment my eyes met his, I quickly tore my gaze away and moved. 

I could feel Mr. Ren's wide eyes peering to the back of my head and Rachel and Juno's, glaring at the side of my jaw as I circled around them and sat at the table directly behind.

I kept my eyes burning into the chipping of the table, instead of focussed during his lesson, after Mr. Ren had managed to regain his composure, twist around to the chalkboard with a piece of white chalk, practically turning to dust in his tight grip and clear his restricted throat before throwing himself into the topic that the class had started last week. 

I do listen though. I listen to that deep and rough voice that I had missed so dearly, but it wasn't the same. It was professional and withheld from the way that made my skin tickle as he would whisper dirty things into my ear and breathe down my neck. Mr. Ren spoke about literature and the way pain and emotional trauma can be widely portrayed through text, and I had to bite my cheek to refuse the tears willing sting and the sad laugh that wanted to chortle into the lesson as I heard those words. 

On the inside, I was constantly screaming. I couldn't deal with even forgetting about my Professor, to a point where I felt more trapped away from him, than I was when he would smother me with his possessive arms. I am no stranger to pain, as exaggerated as that may sound – Pain might as well be my best-friend, or my soulmate for this sake. 

I had been through a lot that I believe I didn't deserve, though now, compared to the stakes that I have knelt to, I assume that I cannot cry or even whine about the past anymore, for I have seemed to wipe away the burdens and smeared those tenacious happenings upon my own skin, to mimic and stoop to that same level.

I wonder what would have happened, if Leo had so openly explained to me, what he was thinking the night that he cheated, during a time when I didn't even know Kylo? Would I have opened my eyes and seen the underlay of pain and sacrifice that it must cause for someone to cheat? Would I have been able to sympathise and even changed my whole thought process on the topic, as I had done so now?

I bite down on my cheek a little harder, for I know that I would have never done what I am about to do, if it wasn't Kylo Ren, that I was doing it for.

The pain that I had felt during the time where I loathed both my Father and Leo, feels so childish and trivial now, especially when I compare it to the burning and treacherous agony that I am reminded of, when he meets my eyes once again. 

Call it character development, or plain stupidity – This analysis of my heart is not worth the ink of an opponents opinion, for I cannot get Kylo out of the trappings of my cage, so I simply lock myself in with him and throw the key out of reach.

It feels as if the world had been slowly chipping away, just like this grimy desk that I sit lonesome on, and now that it is just Mr. Ren standing at the aisle, watching me with curiosity swimming in the hurting browns of his eyes, all our surroundings seem to crash down around us, as if the weight was becoming too much to hold upon my shoulders and I was finally letting go. 

It's so quiet now in the empty classroom that I can even hear the way he roughly swallows, and sucks a sharp breath inwards as if the air was holding onto his confidence and he needed it back before making the first move closer. 

"You–" He stuttered, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes casted to his feet and then back to me, as if he wasn't certain if I was actually here or if he was simply imagining it, "You came to class?"

I only briefly noticed the sunlight move slowly behind the clouds and darken the space of the classroom as he towered above me as if his dark eyes and black hair were enough to soak up all the sun once more. The day had once been bathed in a bright glow, but now as he and I stutter and shake before one another again, New York was casted into gloomy shadows as the sky threatened to cry for my sins. 

I run my tongue along my teeth and clear my throat, though, nothing could rid the way my voice didn't sound as if it belonged to me, "I can't avoid you forever." I said, trying to ease the awkward tension, but there was no mistaking the hint of what we both were really thinking and breathing the words, silently into the air. 

"I–" He tried to begin, but I quickly cut him off, much like he would often do to me as if he was always thinking of what to say next, and just couldn't wait – And what I had to say, definitely couldn't wait any longer than it already has. 

"Look – I don't really want to listen to a babbling of apologies. If you really were sorry, you wouldn't be saying it to me..." I chime, sliding my hands over the table and even embedding my thumb-fingernail into a deep scratch that was in the wood. 

Kylo's eyebrows knitted further together and I watched the way his throat quivered as his lips parted in silence, trying to speak but ultimately, he just stood as my words truely sunk in, before he sighs and sits on the edge of my table casually before saying softly with hunched shoulders, "She deserved it."

We sit in the colossal mess of our sins and the crashing of our collided world in remarkable, comfort – I turn my head to him and raise a questioning eyebrow to him, "– What?" I asked, suddenly realising that this is the first time we had spoken in weeks and yet, my hands are no longer clammy. 

Kylo Ren swallows again, and I watch his Adam's apple bob below the pale skin of his, as he does so, before he turns to me and those gorgeous, golden eyes shine to me as if the sun had most definitely retreated, for it found a better home in those brown orbs. 

"My Wife..." He said slowly, as his lips twitched downwards at me. His eyes scan me slowly before his next words, as if he is mapping out my face in the back of his mind, "She deserved it." 

I shake my head as my face goes heated and red, my own words becoming a tremendous clashing to my true intentions and why I had really come to class today, "I don't think anyone deserves to be living in a relationship of distrust..." I whisper, still slightly holding onto my morals, although I had already let it slip but now I am just dust-panning the mess of its fall together and acting as if it isn't actually broken, and ready to sweep beneath the rug. 

Kylo Ren nods, "Yes, that is true." He says in that deep voice of his, which reminds me of the way silk may glide through scissors or water runs over rocks, "But – I suppose what you give, you receive." He shrugs, although, it isn't causal but rather sad and weak, as if he has always thought that but was never supposed to speak it aloud. 

He speaks like a poet, and for once, his words are something that I don't particularly need to think over much, for I know the clear meaning. 

"She was cheating on you too." I nod, my mind flicking quickly to my Father's office and the close proximity between his door and the woman's _– The same one who had a matching silver ring with Mr Ren –_ desk. 

His long and white fingers twist that silver ring around the forth, causing a wave of nausea to swirl in the pits of my stomach as he asks, "And I think you know who with?"

I nod, my eyes feeling suddenly heavy, "My Father."

Suddenly torn, despite the fact that I already knew of this, I can't help the way my heartbeat quickens and my spine stiffens as a shiver runs along the bones. Yes – I had always presumed that she was the one who had an affair with my Father, but now that Kylo had admitted it too, I suddenly fret that I was nothing but a pawn to him – Something to hurt her right back.

 _I need you._ His words ring in my head, but I have no energy to even worry nor be angry at him, even if that fact of _using_ me is true – I simply cannot care anymore than I care about the way those hands he has, feels upon me and those lips, against me.

"I always assumed that she was being unfaithful for a while, we hadn't been intimate during those many years." Mr. Ren's real voice suddenly brought me out of the trappings of my brain, his fingers still playing with that silver ring as his eyes shine through me, rather than at me, as if he is also trapped in his own mind as he speaks, "But that day, in your dorm where you spoke about your Father and his... _Infidelities_ – It just clicked." 

A lump forms in my throat at the memory. Smashed glass, fallen frame and a picture of my family in the middle of it all – Mr. Ren picked it up and stared at it for such a long time... Was he figuring it all out on that night? And yet, he still continued to hold me gently and not even weep into my shoulder...

I shake my head to myself, though he might think that I am doing it to his words instead as I retort with, "But... You don't know if that's for certain?"

He speaks the same thing that I also think, "It has to be." 

I nod but still keep a curious face upon my mask, "How?"

Mr. Ren stays silent and potent for so long that I might assume that I had truely lost him to the wanderings of his own thoughts as the only thing that moved upon him, was the tiny flickering of his eyes, until eventually he sighed again and twisted half off the table, to retrieve something from his back pocket. 

A leather wallet that looked so manly by itself, although tiny and delicate in those big hands he had, wrinkles as he carelessly flips it open and shoves his fingers behind the slip, where he keeps his credit cards, only to retrieve a creased picture that looked so abandoned, even the white backing looked almost grey.

Just like that night when he accidentally knocked my picture frame to the ground, Kylo Ren slaps the tiny picture onto the table by my hands and my heart sinks into the depths of my churning stomach.

With pale colours of a portrait, battered and old as the sides were only slightly tearing from the film. Chubby with pale, untouched skin that was pudgy around even such a young and soulful smile, I pick up the picture to get a better look but the closer it gets, the more the reality begins to settle upon the crashing surroundings around me, like heavy and suffocating dust. 

I feel an emptiness in my heart, a shear nothingness that somehow, smothers me and threatens to consume me entirely. My brain has become overwhelmed all over again as if this was all new, fresh and blistering raw. I want to let the tears burst forth and spill down my red cheeks for I feel as if the world has no true care or regard for my once clarity, or the slight chance of me ever being away from pain.

I feel the muscles of my chin tremble. There is static in my head once more, the side effect of this constant disappointment, constant stress I live with. I want to wail and scream like a distressed child, raw from the inside, as I look into the eyes of another.

"W-Who's that?" I stutter in a fragile and broken voice, even though my body seems to already know who that baby in the photo, might just belong to.

I pass it back to Kylo Ren as he holds his hand out for it and once it's back in his grip, even he stares at it intently, as if he has never truely looked at it before, "Her child." He mutters nonchalantly to it, before huffing with a roll of the eyes and shoving it back into the wallet, most likely crumpling it with the force before flicking his eyes back onto me.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words form as he stares now at my disgruntled features, but before I even have time to regain my breath from his last words, he adds worse to the wrath, like one might add vinegar to bleach and then chug it, _"Your Brother."_

I choke on my own spit and mere tears spill as I lose all the air in my lungs. 

Upon his words, I didn't know exactly how to feel. My chest caves in and my eyes stare distantly as I am lost in the maze of my mind once again, but this time I don't know if I can ever escape. My surroundings begin to spin and I become wasted on the sways between wanting to feel the emotions that I should, but I feel utterly sombre and numb to the revelation. 

I should feel betrayed, conflicted and uncertain all at the same time, but after weeks of being trudged through the harmful depths of heartbreak and distrust, only to then change my morals for the benefit of desire and passion – I find that the conflict that I am pulled relentlessly between, makes me ultimately hang limp like wet laundry on a cold, still, day.

But there is something that scratches at my heart, an emotion which I cannot quite place or analyse as easily as Kylo could find the meanings in many texts of literature.

I shake my head to him as my eyes glaze over with tired tears but I don't let them follow the previous tears that escaped through my thick eyelashes, "It can't be." I whisper to my Professor, who returned his right hand to that ring around his left, forth finger, which I wanted to tear off his finger and throw it carelessly into the trashcan in the corner of the room.

Kylo Ren repeats the same words that he said only moments ago, "But you know, _it has to be..."_

And it's the truth – Unless his Wife was also sleeping around with another man, which wasn't my Father, then that baby in the photo, has to belong to my Father – Not Kylo Ren. 

My focus was scattered and also filled with a nervous anticipation which makes my blood feel cold beneath my burning skin. Anxiety floods my system and suddenly, my mind wanders back to Leo Grey and the words which had enlightened me enough to carelessly bring myself back to Mr. Ren.

Maybe, my previous worries that I blatantly ignored, were in-fact true – Maybe, I was something that Kylo Ren had tried to use in order to forget about the pain that his Wife put him through, just like Leo Grey had tried to find something that he believed I couldn't give to him, in that girl on prom night. I can only assume the resentment that Mr. Ren must feel when he looks to that poor baby, to know that it isn't his child and it was born in the happenings of an illicit affair.

I am tied to Kylo Ren in two ways, and I feel guilty from both wires that twist around me so tenaciously. If my Father had never cheated on my Mother, then Mr. Ren would possibly never have marriage issues and not seek me out either... And it makes me utterly sick in the soul, to know that I am uncertain as to if I can still loath my Father for what his past had brought to me.

That same feeling gnaws at my insides, wanting and yearning for something that I cannot give to it, for I regretfully don't understand what it wants nor is, in the first place.

"So..."I gulp, furrowing my brows and biting lightly on my bottom lip when it begins to tremble, "Was I like, your retaliation? _Your fix?"_

Kylo moves closer, still sitting upon the desk and he chuckles low, but it still sounds weak and disrupted by something deep inside of him, "A Fix?" He laughs, obviously uncertain of where I had gotten the word and idea, though I would never tell. He shakes his head, "No – It was never my intentions to get all caught up in this... _Mess."_

_A mess it very much is, but I can only let myself become glued and twined into the muck that he had brought my heart into._

"But revenge?" He continues, his jaw clenching as he stares at me and then drops his gaze back to that _damn_ silver ring, "I suppose I do long for something of that sorts."

His words strike me and all at once, that misplaced and misunderstood emotion in me, bursts forth and makes its name known. Revenge. Did I want revenge – For what? My Father's actions? Kylo Ren's Wife, for hurting him?

Revenge, I had always considered it to be a much belied concept. The need for revenge was like a rat chewing at ones soul and integrity, relentless, unceasing, it could only be stopped by the cold steel of a rat trap, a trap that fate could only give. My beloved Mother never believed in self-handed revenge, she solely believed that the world would give out its own punishment. 

But suddenly, as Kylo and I glance back to each-other, I realise that he and I are both wanting something as if this emotion is burning a hole into our hearts and it can only be cured by something that both of us should not be able to have – Each-other, and maybe that was the secret revenge of it all, the fact that he and I, weren't suppose to mend to each-other's wounds, for our healing by the other's loving hand, is the cruelest, kindest form of revenge. 

I had said it many times before, Kylo Ren was like a paper cut. One that was festering and deep, where the blood that sharply drew was savage and the paper that caused the wound, was spiteful – But the fact that I would shiver with the pain and only await the next slice, was an unforgiving form of reprisal after so many years of feeling _nothing._ So, like a paper cut lover, I let the wounds heal only for him to make his mark upon me again and again – Brutally, callously, fully adorned with satisfaction, our little and happy form of revenge for all the previous pain that we hated. 

I reach out to his hands, my fingers shaking in the tension between us before finally falling and resting above that silver ring, "We both do." I whisper to Kylo Ren, but he seems too focussed on something else to understand my true meaning and the way my heart was slowly picking up its own edges and placing them back together.

"I am sorry, sweetheart." He whispered right back and the pet-name was enough for all my shattered edges to start glistening as the muscle beneath his eye twitches in that way it always would before he added, "– I just want you to know, that she really does mean nothing to me... _But you?"_

All at once, my heartbeat thuds so loud in my chest that I can feel the pulse send the blood through the veins all around my body and it thuds in my ears like a thousand drums as I hold onto my breath.

He shakes his head to himself and grins a small smile as his thumbs now brush over my hand, "Well – I am not even sure what these desires and emotions mean... But they do mean everything to me. You mean everything to me." 

His confession had lifted a million pin-pricks out of my skin but I was still so unworthy for his love, so I stabbed them all back in. There was nothing I ever wanted more than to hear him say something so open and vulnerable, but now that it's here standing its ground delicately, I don't want to pressure it with my own self-worth, incase it shatters before me.

My mind wavers back to the short amount of time that it took to grow so infatuated with the handsome man before me, the man who had shown me the muse and desire that I thought was long gone and even the one who had managed to pull one more poem out of me _– Which I still need to change into Rachel's name –_ There has been many days spent together, our hearts in the open but our bodies hidden away from everyone else's eyes. My stomach drops. Is this how it would be, until the next time something breaks us apart?

"How could I?" I speak through the trembling of my lips, "How could I mean everything to you, if in order to keep doing whatever we call this _mess..._ We have to keep doing it in secret?"

Kylo's face leans in closer to mine and all at once, I remember that there is a busy hallway on the other-side of the door which again, hides our vulnerability away. I can hear the way he swallows and if it weren't for my loud heart, I might even be able to hear his own for I can feel it in the pulse of his hands which have twisted so now he is holding me, instead of mine holding his. 

"We both want many of the same things. Revenge, freedom and well, each-other," Kylo Ren points out as he smiles softly to me, and I watch the way those freckles upon his pale skin, waver around the pink as if they were making more room for the beauty, "Who's to say that we can't have them all, once you have finished college?" He drawls, and just like that, it seems as if we are once again, tying ourselves with the silver string of a secret, loving affair – Only this time, it doesn't feel so much like a noose. 

My features soften at the statement that fell from his lips with such fragile grace, falling to the realness with a harsh smack upon my heart as it leaped off of his without any control, and control was all Mr. Ren ever had. Kylo controlled the land he walks, the authority he captures. He controls my heart and the will that it allows me to follow him, wherever he wanted me to go.

"Which won't take long," I shrug, ignoring the way my chest heaved and my stomach did a flip, "I'm two seconds away from failing this course and being withdrawn. Then what am I suppose to do? Work at a superm–" I suddenly ramble, but he cuts me off.

"– Don't worry about the future, I'm certain that we are both going to be sacrificing many things for one another," Kylo retorts, gripping onto my hand tightly before letting it go and letting it fall to his toned thigh, "But until the day when we get what we truely want, we must continue doing this in the dark." 

The dark. A secret – But maybe, not for long? I honestly cannot believe that yesterday morning, I was spending my time wallowing in my bed, wishing that I could just fall into his arms one last time, and today, here he is, possibly talking about a future together? 

Is it possible that Kylo Ren and I could be so much more if one day, we are finally able put our cruel pasts behind ourselves and look into ways we could cure our brutal future, because without the distractions of our hidden emotions, we could just expose the true fragility of our hearts in a way that we have done so right now, and truely bury the love in soil where it could grow peacefully instead of dying with the fear of someone cutting our stems?

Though tragically, I have never been the one for patience and although I want to think of nothing but the future and just wait for the time that he and I can possibly have a relationship, away from college and all the suspicions – I cannot see that far ahead, and my low hopes can only imagine the many ways that our relationship will be brutally cut short before that is ever possible.

"But –" I practically whimper as I lean up now closer to his face, almost unconsciously, "I don't want to keep secrets just to keep you," I admit. 

Something flashed beneath the surface of his expression and I hurried to investigate the sudden shift but it was too late, the emotion disappeared before I could identify it as he bites the inside of his cheek and I feel his breath fan my face as I continue to lean up, until eventually, I am no longer sitting on my chair, but rather, curled across the table.

"Then, I suppose that we will have to make those sacrifices sooner than our courage can anticipate." He says with a rough tone, as if his throat had suddenly become coarse and gravelly, and only when I see a muscle twitch in his arm, is when I look down to his hands in the small space between us and watch the way he takes off that silver ring and places it to the side of the table, with no true regard. 

I swallow and look back up at him, "Am I worth the sacrifice though?" I speak, watching the way my breath softly sways a strand of his dark hair. 

He nods, ever-so-slowly, "The second that I saw you, I was ready to give up everything so long as you kept looking at me with those wide eyes of yours..." He drawls, his eyes flicking down to my lips and then back to my _wide_ eyes, "I wanted you so badly, but I knew it would be treacherous... The yielding pain that would result of losing all _for_ you, and then losing _you_ too." 

My mouth goes dry.

"I guess the only way I can truely word it, is by another's – _I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever; but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita."_ He utters, sending me back to that day in this very room, where he had walked in, slowed all of my time and then kept gazing over to me as he spoke about the novel, Lolita.

Suddenly, his _naked_ hand, reaches up in the space between us and slowly cups my cheek and like a puppy who has been withheld away from attention, I lean right into his touch and the dead butterflies in my chest, rise from their graves as he continues, "But I want you to be my Lolita forever. I want to make the sacrifices and trudge through the darkness of secrecy, only to then hold you in the light for the rest of my life. I want you to be _mine."_

In those open and loving eyes, they became my own soul in the moments that we had spent together. When he touched me with those gentle but risky hands, I was made anew, no longer as glass, but as if my body was reborn in its most perfect form, born to love in its purpose. And so, in this flickering of lust there is a deep gratitude, a sense that what he gave to me was sacred and transient, passing in time into the eternal cycles of undeniable, desire and passion.

I nod further into the cupping of his large and warm hand, "I want to be yours," I say, keeping my eyes burning into the irises of his, "B-But... I want you to be mine too."

He smirks and I watch the way his lips curl into his cheek so perfectly, "Then make your sacrifices, as I will make mine," He nods slowly as his thumb brushes over my crimson cheeks, "And we will be each-other's." He says, finalising the bond before he leans in, slowing time once again. 

The longer the silence stretches, the quicker I am to forget how this had even happened – But it seems that in one split second, after our lips had attacked one another, Kylo had pulled me up and carried me over to the nearest wall, pushing me against it, firmly but not hard enough to earn anything but a whimper for his hands to return into the tangling of my hair. 

My legs are wrapped around his waist and even beneath the throbbing of my wanting core, I can feel the obvious tent in his pants as his lips suck the skin below my jaw. 

I shiver, there is something about his sudden protectiveness that was definitely amplified, his complete control, it was surprisingly hot and only added to the clouding of my senses.

It is as if all the pain and heartbreak had never happened, although I can still feel the after-effects, the tiny little pang of the memory and the fear of losing Mr. Ren again. I could say no, I could force this moment to stop and flee back to my dorm before I ignorantly fall back into the trappings of his addictive touch, and I am certain that he would leave it at that and we could go onwards, painfully, in forgetting about each-other – But there's something stirring inside of me, at the thought of being nothing but his and that's all I now need. 

Against the wall one moment, the next, I am back to being pressed against his own desk, his papers and utilities, sent flying to the floor but neither of us cared for the _mess._ Without hesitation, he pulls my loose shirt off roughly, following in suit with pulling down pants after earning an eager nod of my approval first. 

Kissing down my neck hungrily, Kylo lightly bites at the purple blotch of tender skin that he had caused below my ear and I let a small cry escape my lips at the feeling of his hot mouth on my cool skin, bucking up into him as he leans over.

His tongue flicks over the spot briefly before he works his way up to my ear, leaving open mouthed kisses and bites before I hear his voice, which is low and deep when he speaks, as his long fingers brush down the skin of my stomach and down to where I constantly grind into him, "You want to be mine?" He smirks after moving his head out of the crook of my neck and letting his hair fall onto my face.

I suppress a moan as I feel the automatic reaction that my body makes, draw at his circling touch of his fingers above the fabric of my underwear. I nod carelessly, my head banging into the wood of his desk.

He stops abruptly after a few minutes and he removes his shirt and pants, leaving him in just his tight boxers, his erection pressing against the fabric, the tip of his length straining and pink at the top of the elastic band, begging for attention. 

He kneels higher over me and helps pull my body up, so my face is just craning in front of his length.

At his raspy voice, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, "Then show me that you're mine," He ordered, pulling me closer by the hair so I'm now perched up and bent over my own body as he carelessly kneels on his own desk as if it were a bed. I moan softly at the words and I know exactly what he means as his length is so exposed before my face, but that doesn't stop me from pulling his boxers down to the mid of his tights and obediently taking his throbbing member in my hand, stroking him tenaciously and teasingly a few times, just to hear the way he growls and groans, before in the end, taking him into the warmth of my mouth – Choosing to forget about that silver ring and his Wife.

My handsome and adoring Professor, tangles his left hand in my hair and I only tense my jaw further around him, when I don't feel the scrape of a ring as he pushes his cock roughly, further into my mouth, giving me no time to adjust before he starts steadily thrusting against my swirling tongue, his soft moans filling the room as I quietly gag around him, spit dripping onto my own thighs.

After a moment, my jaw does become sore but I'm unable to pull back considering his firm hand is pushing against the back of my head, and because of the tiny fact that below his breaths, I can hear him panting words about how I am nothing but his... Until finally he stops and lets go of my head, allowing my mind to now focus only on my core throbbing for attention and the heat pooling in every inch of my body which I have almost willingly, handed over to Mr. Ren.

He pulls out of my mouth slowly, allowing more saliva to drip from the corners of my mouth as if I only wanted more. He wastes little time in pushing me back down into the position that we were in before and in one swift movement, he slides two of his long fingers into my mouth, before slowly grinding into me. I whine and gag around his fingers, mouth hanging open slightly as I become lost in nothing but arousal. 

"Oh – Sweetheart," Kylo softly whispers as his eyes leverage upon me, sending my mended heart into a fit as the butterflies threaten to drown in the lust that forms in my abdomen, so they relocate to my lungs and chest.

After a minute, he pulls them out and as my eyes roll to the back of my head, I am barely conscious to notice the way he pushes my underwear down slowly and rubs the bundle of nerves briefly with a wet finger for a minute, before he pushes two fingers inside me without warning, causing a loud gasp to erupt into the empty classroom at the warm and sudden intrusion. It feels so good to have him so close to me again, I can almost feel his heart pressed against my own as I adjust quickly, my hands sliding over his broad shoulders and running my fingernails down the porcelain skin of his back.

Kylo Ren leans down and nips at my ear lightly again, moaning words that are deep and husky into it as his movements slow, ready for the next position, "Are you ready?" He asks, and I moan loudly, unable to hold back as if I had been deprived from my addiction for many years and now he was dangling my personal heroine in front of me.

I nod and whine, to which he pulls his fingers out and chuckles low, "Then, say what I need to hear." Mr. Ren rasps, the sound forming like a symphony that I never want to forget. 

I know what he means straight away, and before he makes the first thrust into me, I give him what he and I, truely want as I whisper the sinful words to my married, Literature Professor...

_"I'm yours."_


	25. TWENTY-FOUR

Over the passing days, we had taken no time to waste the devotion within our tender hearts. 

Whether that be, inviting Kylo Ren to my dorm during the late hours, where night shifts into morning, or locking the classroom door and pulling down the blinds to crawl beneath his desk and take him with my mouth, and perhaps even the times where he had lunged me into the passenger seat of his car, only for me to crawl over him in the drivers side and allow the windows to fog up as we hide within the smoke of our secret endeavours. 

There was an urgency often spilling out of me, with a desperate need to allow him to consume me entirely or at least offer up every inch of my skin for him to leave bruises and love-bites of his approval upon. 

I was completely obsessed, and I suppose that he must be as beautifully adorned by the plague of need for me too, for Kylo Ren seems to often twitch at the visions that swirl in his memory at the mere sight of me, sitting innocently in his classroom, where nothing innocent seems to happen whenever he mumbles for me to stay back. 

We were in serious trouble if anyone found out, but it seemed as if we were being less cautious than ever as our yearning for only more, seemed to cloud our judgement and leave us panicking in the few moments where we got to be alone. 

The last time we had manage to sneak back together, was two days ago, during the fragile hour between his classes, where Kylo had spotted me through the crowd and lead me to the handicapped toilets, where he had locked the door and slammed me against the vanity almost violently, bending me over and scampering his hands around my waist as his moans restricted behind tight lips. 

I can still see the slight bruises across my knuckles from searching and winding around anything in reach, to keep myself anchored up against the sinks as Kylo repetitively thrusted into me, causing the ceramic to clink loudly over our attempts to remain quiet. 

I longed to feel the tingly fire that ignited all over my skin, whenever his body made direct contact with mine. I couldn't wait to hear his low groans, mellow in my ear and his breath fan across my cheek, and as the afternoon classes seem to finish, after waiting for the time when I could finally escape and return back into his arms, I have to refrain from screaming with excitement even now, as I fold my arms over my chest and make my way to the back exit where Mr. Ren told me to meet him – But, I have to make a quick pit-stop first.

Despite the slow mending of my shattered heart, there was still a hollowness to the glass that often seemed to sharply jab at my insides and inject anxiety, as I still endlessly worry about that stupid poem and the competition.

Rachel Mathews has to win it and so far, all I know is that the poem that Kylo had entered on my behalf, seems to have a chance at winning, so I have to swap the name on the envelope before it is sent off to the publishing house.

And, after swiping the names over, if my poem which will be formally known as Rachel's, doesn't win – Well, I might as well sign off my whole future and pack my bags now, for I don't have a backup plan.

It was paramount that I make the first move though and swap the names, and I had tried so many times to ask my Father to hand me back the poem to add changes, but he refused every-time with the assumption that I would never return it – So, I had decided that I just needed to get into his office when he isn't there, and change it then.

I walked into the main office with wide eyes of a sensitive caution, this was the fourth time that I was simply checking to see if the office was empty, ready to bat my eyelashes to Mr. Ren's Wife to use her set of keys to open the office after I explain that I had left something of mine in there, but just like those other three times that I had arrived, I could see the bald head of my Father's through the slits of his blinds – That and, the golden waves of blonde hair too. 

I bite down on my cheeks and sharply turn without a second thought, refusing to spare another glance at my Father and Mr. Ren's Wife, and deciding that I will have to try again another day. 

A pair of cheaters, that's what they are and Kylo's words had often echoed in my mind, whenever I saw the receptionist – Only adding fuel to the fire of hatred that burned in my chest for her. 

I hadn't had much time between the anxiety of the competition and the devotion that I hold for Kylo Ren, to ultimately fret over the idea that Kylo goes home every-night to a home, where my Father's offspring is cradled in the hands of the woman who had torn my family apart – But whenever I do have time to saunter over the cruel reality, I can't help but loath my Father even more than I had before.

I was enraged. I was seething as my blood began to heat and my eyes narrow as I trudged back to where I truly belonged. There was only one thing that was capable of numbing the vulnerability of my anger towards the two in the office, and that was the very man who deserved to be just as, if not more, enraged than I was.

But, as the icy chill of outside hits my crimson cheeks that boil just as much as my blood does at the simple sight of Mr. Ren's Wife in my Father's office, I can't help the slow smile that soon spreads across my face, when I finally approach his car, which had been safely tucked away from the busy entrance of the college. 

I couldn't stop the thoughts of Kylo Ren and I, once again, but this time, they aren't the flashing reminders of all the times that we had snuck away together, where nobody could see the illicit things that we do – But rather, I am simply imagining the way that he looks when he is above me, or the way that his hands roughly grope my fragile frame, so wondrously. 

His hands were buried deep inside of his coat pockets, even though the heater was humming through the vents of his car, where the seats are a crisp, black leather and a white paper cup of coffee, sits in the console holder, between the passenger seat and him. The murky light of a cold and wet, late-afternoon filtered through the car windows, but was yet to unsettle those dark brown eyes of his, which were hidden behind the black framing of his sunglasses – For despite the wintry weather that burdened the spring, Kylo Ren still tried to conceal his identity, if anyone were to peek through the tinted windows and see me, making myself comfortable by his side.

The air in the small confining, smelt of bitter coffee but also the sweet scent of everlasting desire, which even made my hands tingle as I watched the way he bit back a smirk. The silence between us, throughout the hours spent in a soulless classroom, had been lasting too long upon my heart, which would beat so loud every-time Mr. Ren flicked his gaze over to me in the second row. 

But now – Mr. Ren took his sunglasses off and looked at me as if my eyes were the windows to both Heaven and Hell, and he was trying to decide which place would be the best to deliciously devour what was left of me, now that it is just him and I. 

Subconsciously, I licked my lips at just the thought of how sweet his own truely taste, for he was my total undoing, and I would only let him most definitely, devour every inch of my soul and skin, if that was what he wanted.

We both slightly grinned as we now sat only inches away from each-other – I could smell his addictive cologne and I could feel the familiar electricity of his elated adrenaline, rolling off his toned body as his fingers crept from out of his pockets and reached for me. 

The edge of dangerous lust was a sharp and climatic boundary that we often crossed, but a needy whimper seemed to escape my lips as his big hands curled around my cheeks, throwing me off and into the burning embers of a heated desire for only him, after having to pretend to be distant and cold for so long. 

In his deep and dark eyes, with a practiced expertise, I could point out the lust as if I was an Art Major instead – Easily able to read the longing, the need and the urgency that swam through the colour, like a paintbrush would swirl through paint, only his emotion was mirroring all my own cravings.

Kylo's hands then twine into my hair and without saying a word, he drives me closer into him, and presses his lips forcibly against my own. 

I moaned into the kiss and if I weren't sitting down, I would have presumed from the way his hands twist so desperately in my hair, that my knees would have given out and sent me toppling to the floor, dragging him down with me. 

We both ran our hands all over each-other as if we both weren't familiar with every curve and muscle of one another's body, my fingers grabbed at his tie, only attempting to pull him in closer as both of his slide all the way down my arms and then swap to my waist. 

His chest shook and vibrated against mine, causing me to whimper as he moaned and leave me only curling my hands into the material of his shirt instead. 

When we were panting for air, he only broke the kiss to suck a sharp breath into his toned chest and then continued to press his lips all over my cheeks, down my nose and at the corners of my mouth. His warm fingers found their way under the hem of my shirt and slide roughly underneath, scraping the flesh with his blunt fingers and seemingly, scratching away the memory of his Wife and my Father from before, out of my mind. 

I fluttered my eyes open and it seemed to take eternity for my gaze to shift with clarity upon his beauty, and when he was nothing but perfect to my sight, I couldn't help but assume that this must be some sort of dream as he stole all the breath away from me once again, when he interlocked our lips as his fingers tickled along the bones of my ribcage.

Though, the second kiss didn't last as long, and before I was even able to slip my tongue into his mouth, he broke away from me, leaving my lips nothing but cold and tingling, 

"You ready to go?" Kylo asked, breaking the quiet conformity and resuming the illicit playing of his affair, to which my eyes darted to his mouth and mimicked the way he nibbled tenderly upon the pink.

I nod, "Always."

The silence returned, but this time it didn't feel as it would in class – Like a ticking time bomb, where it was only a matter of seconds before anyone, other than Rachel Mathews, noticed just how many times he would suspend his words as his eyes watched me chew on the end of my pen – But rather, it was a comfortable silence, one where my heart still sounded like the beating of a thousand drums, but it only rendered to the symphony of his own. 

I tilted my head to the side and let my forehead rest on the window to watch the pedestrians rushing by on the busy streets of a busier city. Everyone seemed as if they were in such a hurry, bumping shoulders and grazing directions in a dash, but in this car with Kylo Ren, everything often seemed to slow down for me – It was as if it was my own body's way of suspending the good moments between he and I, for my soul was causing havoc upon my morals and often screaming with the fear of loosing him again. 

After that day where the sun seemed to retreat as did my good intentions, I had found that I was burdened with the unescapable guilt of involving myself once again with Mr. Ren, who had a Wife, despite her cheating on him too, with my own Father. 

It wasn't that my guts were often churning for I regret ever pressing my lips upon Kylo's once again, or twisting my legs around his waist in secrecy... It was more so the fact that I was incredibly envious and enraged that he would still go home every night and possibly sleep distantly by the beautiful, blonde woman's side. I wanted to be the body beside him, keeping his chest warm as the cold air seeped through the curtains that sat among the opened window of his bedroom. I wanted to share his home, as I had seemed to allow him to move into the space of my heart. 

But, I never asked him for anything, I never even uttered the deep and cruel wishes that haunted my soul. Kylo Ren had briefly spoken about a future together, so that must mean that his Wife would be way out of the picture by then, doesn't it? Yes – It has to. 

I seem to be willing to give up everything for only him, and he had promised the same, so all I have to do, is wait – But I am impatient, and always have been. My Mother once told me that, impatience seems to be the honest and most devious, root of all my problems. One cannot simply force life to quicken its pace and give all the answers, one must just wait for the slow unfolding of all in question.

But, I have so much to ask him, so much to question before he even mumbles an answer. No, I wasn't asking for much, just a promise, and well, maybe commitment. Patience isn't my best virtue, but neither is my ability to refrain from over-analysing things to the point where I grow fears out of nothing. 

I tried to pluck up the courage to ask Kylo many of times, when would be the last time he takes off that silver ring of his, only to never put it back on after I am gone, though it seems my words were often derailed by his mouth or sinister, lust fuelled touches – But now, as his knuckled clench around the steering wheel and his lips stay only away for who knows how long, I gulp on the lump of courage in my throat and reach for the coffee in the console, only briefly wincing at the cold brew of his forgotten drink as it slides down my throat, before I begin to fill the silence with my impatient questioning. 

"K–" I begin, but he cuts me off as he parks to the side of a street and pulls up the hand-break with a sigh. 

I blinked at him when he finally turned back to me, leaving me struck and unable to resist the allure of the pale skin that was sprinkled with markings, so creatively around the small smirk upon his face. 

He knits his eyebrows together as I suddenly lose myself in the clutches of my mind again, like I often would with the simple sight of Kylo Ren. 

He moves his hand between us again, this time laying it softly upon my shoulder and causing a shiver to run along my spine, just at the same time as the rain begins to petal upon the windscreen. 

"We're here." He says calmly, unknowing of the wavering thoughts that thrash around my mind, begging for answers.

My twinkling eyes bore into his and I tried to read the soul that was behind the darkness. I longed to see the colours of his mind, the poetry in the gleam that would shine upon the brown, but as his thumb begins to brush against my collarbone, I force myself out of the capturing and shake my head before glancing through the rain and up at the towering building before us. 

"A hotel?" I furrow my brows and ask as I clearly recognise the expensive building in the heart of New York City. I turn back to him and lift my hand above his own upon my shoulder, interlocking my fingers into his as I sigh, "Kylo, you said we were going somewhere quiet."

By somewhere quiet, I had assumed that he was going to drive slightly out of the city and park somewhere secluded, awaiting for the sun to retreat before pulling me onto his lap – Not an exquisite hotel in the middle of such a loud and boisterous street. 

Kylo chuckles and shakes his head, "Yes... And?" He chimes, "This place is quiet. It's far off from the campus and it's somewhere where we can just relax without the fear of someone barging in." He points out, as if it was obvious. 

Taken aback, I laughed nervously for a second, contorting my features in a way that awaited his pestering smile that made sure he was joking, but upon those rosy lips, was only a potent smirk and the raising of eyebrows that proved him to be completely serious with his intentions. 

My smile falls, but his smirk never wavers as he speaks once again, "Or would you rather continue our hobbies in the classroom?" He mumbles with a sarcastic tone. 

His words and smile sunk into my chest, whilst somehow also wrapping around my inner soul, and I couldn't help the giddy grin that also rose on my face at the sight of him. He held all of my attention, my eyes always searching his as the anticipation swarms to my heart. 

My breathing was shaking and uneven, to which he only moved his hand to the nape of my neck and scratched his fingers from the roots all the way to the ends of my hair. 

I braced myself in the silence of the car, his eyes still locked into mine as I dart my tongue out to wet my lips as my mind began to hum a tune to fill the quiet, like it often would whenever he glanced my way in the halls. 

Kylo Ren made my senses fog over and yet, the only thing that was always clear in the mist was him. 

"I can't say that I don't enjoy the slight thrill of someone catching us," I lie, my mind drifting briefly to Rachel and the poem that I must swap before even ever considering a future with Kylo. I shake the thought away though and grin as my eyebrows raise, "But it might be nice to not have to be... Quiet." 

He huffed a breath of laughter at my own sarcasm, and I felt his breath fan my face, sweetly and richly making my lips tingle.

Mr. Ren pulled his hand away, only to twist the keys out of the ignition and nudge his head to the hotel that he had booked a room at, the moment that he watched me bite on the end of my pen, yesterday morning.

He rasped his next words with that same chime from before, not only slotting another shattered piece of my heart back together, but also letting it warm with that gleam of his eyes...

"Just don't get us kicked out with a noise complaint, sweetheart."


	26. TWENTY-FIVE

It felt disorientating to walk so openly in public, hand in hand. Mr. Ren was tall by my side, so beautiful and outstanding compared to everyone else, and yet, I couldn't help but feel as if my place permanently belonged beside him, no matter how much we may differ on the outside. 

He had my much smaller hand tightly grasped in the curl of his own, as he pulled me quickly through the crowd that littered the foyer of the grand hotel. I wrapped my fingers around his, forever holding on and feeling the sparks of excitement, buzzing in our palms which we pressed against each-other. 

I could feel all my nerves fray as if I had been suddenly electrocuted by the luminosity of his handsome eyes, and the lust only pulsed in the humming beat of my electric heart, vibrating in my chest and brightening my eyes too, which kept glancing around the extravagant lobby.

The hotel is sparse on the usual ornate detailing, more classical than modern. The colours are in the palate of nothing but deep and rich, including every hue from golden railings to the dark violets of plush cushions and carpets. The floor was tiled in fine marble, which made every step echo as the chandelier above, made reflections dance across the ceiling. 

Many people filled the space, either speed-walking straight to the elevators, rolling their luggage out of them or tapping their feet lightly behind us, ready to drop their bags onto the marble, and all at once, I felt more out of place than I had before, for the tailored suits around us, clearly showcased that this was a wealthy area and the lack of bags in our hands, showed that we weren't two out of the dozens of tourists either... _But, I didn't think that Kylo Ren had exactly planned on packing his swimmers and taking a dip in the hotel pool tonight._

Exquisite paintings hung from the high walls, where behind them, dozens of elevators lift to the penthouses and the thousands of hotel rooms. Even the door hinges were engraved with swirls and elegant designs – I gaped at the splendid sight, but _he_ only made our surroundings seem like dust compared to his shine. 

Kylo spoke to the man behind the reception desk with a humorous tone, joking about the weather and engaging in small talk as the worker, who wore an expensive suit of maroon, typed away on his computer, before nodding and beaming a _professional_ smile to my _Professor._

"Yes, the room is perfectly ready," He said, "Right on time."

Kylo nods and for a second, I fret that he is about to let my hand go when the receptionist holds the room keys across the counter, but Mr. Ren merely slips his other hand out of his coat pocket and allows the silver to drop into his palm. 

"Great." He replies, with a sharp grin. 

The receptionist smiles like a still photo, eyes remaining still but taking in our details and never letting his costumer-service tone wobble, "I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Ren." He suddenly says, just as the two of us are ready to walk away, keys in hand, and all at once, a shiver runs along my spine and my mouth goes incredibly dry. 

Seconds felt like hours and it took me a while before I was anything but an inarticulate mess, stuttering and shaking my head to the receptionist as my cheeks burn incredibly red and the hand that Kylo clasps with his own, beads with a thin layer of sweat. 

"Actually, I–" I begin, but Kylo is quick to squeeze my hand and interject with a wide and adoring smile.

"Thank you." He says to the receptionist, before twisting us both around and casually leading me to the elevators.

My heart was absolutely screaming and my anxiety was the amplifier. My breathing became sparse and brittle as we waited in silence for the elevator doors to chime and glide open with ease, only to then, walk into the shaft in complete silence too. 

My mind was running wild, but it seems it was only replaying the words spoken by the receptionist.

_"I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Ren."_

_"I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Ren."_

_"– Mr. and Mrs. Ren."_

_"– Mr. and Mrs. Ren."_

The guilt sat not on my chest but inside my brain, for I knew that what Kylo and I were doing, was wrong, but radically, my heart was beating too loud for me to listen to the wise words of my subconscious, though at times like this – Even my heart skips a bit and allows the screams to erupt. 

All I could think about right now was that he and I was in such a grand hotel, in the middle of New York City, and his deceiving Wife had no idea – _Though, I doubt she knew that he also knew she was bending herself over her colleague's desk._

I used the silent time wisely, and despite my flustered face, Mr. Ren seemed unfazed, as I rake my eyes diligently up to him. He had a sultry smirk plastered among the porcelain of his face, which easily matched his confident and unfazed stance, as his shoulders were broad but ultimately relaxed as he clasped his hands together and watched the levels rise.

It seemed as if, I was fretting over one simple sentence, and yet, Kylo didn't seem to care. Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my back pocket and I sighed to myself as I slipped it out and read the message from Percy which shined upon my lock-screen. 

𝚂𝚘𝚘𝚘 – 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙?

I rolled my eyes to the message, not caring in the slightest for silly matters like that at this exact moment _– If only Percy knew about all the other things on my mind –_ So, I just leave it unread and slip it back into my pocket before looking back to Kylo.

"Are we not going to talk about before?" I suddenly utter, watching the way his eyes sightly squint when I break the sultry quiet. 

I dipped my head down after I watched him swallow roughly. Kylo Ren must have slowed time again, as if that was his secret superpower, for the elevator seems to be taking _too_ long to rise to our desired level – That or, it is malfunctioning and I might just be ruining the last good moments that we have before we start to panic and await the dreadful drop.

"About what?" He finally said, causing me to shush my own dense and foolish fabrications, and finally glance away from my shoes and back up at him.

"About what happened back there?" I say, raising a brow and forcing a slight smile upon my face, although it quivers, "I am not your Wife."

For a second, his broad body stilled completely as he registered my words, which though it was the truth, it sounded so traitorous to point out that I am nothing but his student, and only a reminder of the _missing_ silver around the tan line on his finger.

He shook his head to me, and took an inch of a step forward, taking up the space between us and letting his breath only add heat to the burning cheeks of mine. Smirking and tilting his head, Kylo extinguished every hint of anxiety that sauntered through every vein of my body as his dark eyes watched me for a moment, like a vulture would spy on its prey before devouring it.

I didn't move from my place as he lifted his hand and laid the back of it to my cheeks, easily feeling the heat practically boil the blood beneath his fingers – In-fact, I wasn't sure if I could move even if I tried, nothing was working properly in my brain, other than the delicate whispering of guilt and infidelity.

"He doesn't need to know what you are, so long as I know what you are." He rasps upon me.

I swallowed thickly and shook my head, all while he kept the back of his hand against my cheek. It seemed to take up all the concentration within me as I narrowed my eyes, to try and escape the wide ones of his own that always sway and draw me in.

"That doesn't even make any sense..." I whisper in the small space of the elevator, to which his smile only amplified and a small chuckle escaped the rose of his lips.

"Yes, it does." He retorts.

I licked my lips and narrowed my eyes at him, trying to read his mind and inspect every inch of his face, to find answers. I shuddered noticeably at his pensive smirk, my own lips twitching into a suppressed grin as if I was a mirror, although my features still twisted slightly in perplexity. 

"Then –" I begin, tilting my head and swallowing down my next words with apprehension, only to verbally vomit them back up without a second thought, "What am I, to you?"

Mr. Ren blinked down slowly at me, only to nod once and say the words that he had said only a handful of times before, "You're mine," He said, as if it was our secret promise.

A delicious and familiar warmth spread through my chest as if he had just shoved dynamite down my throat and let it explode in the confining of my stomach. I never wanted to be away from him ever again, I was growing more and more addicted to his words and charm with every hour, and his approval only made me lust after his sweet and seductive drug, forevermore _– But I still needed answers._

The elevator makes a calming and quiet noise when it reaches our floor, which I still slightly jump at, as Kylo's hands slide off my face only to grab back onto my hand and pull me out.

I stumble along to keep up with his quickened pace as he glides down the halls as if he had been to this hotel a thousand times before tonight.

"Yours, yes..." I nod, rolling my eyes and then looking back at his sharp jaw beside me, "But like, what are _we?"_

My words sound as if I am thirteen again and asking my first crush if we're an item yet, after hanging out only once before. I cleared my throat to somewhat cover for the tone of my voice and shake my head at my own desperation. 

"I–" Kylo begins, glancing down at me, whilst the hand that isn't holding onto me as if I was his suitcase, twirls the room keys, "I am not quite sure... What do you want to be?" He asks. 

It took me a moment as his words slowly sunk in. I was led astray into the wreck of my mind, searching through the mess and ultimately finding no answers to his question, for I knew that deep down, the truth gleamed in the shards of my glass heart.

There was an emotion swimming behind my eyes, and he searches it for a split second as he leads me down the hall, to which I quickly look away, back down to my feet as a classic diversion tactic, when I start to feel the heat return to my face.

My voice is timid and weak, though I know Kylo only likes it when I seem vulnerable and small, "Well, I want to be something. It's confusing to not know anything other than, that _I_ am your student and _we_ are a secret." I admit, watching my laces flop in a rhythm upon the carpet.

His pace slowed. "But –" Kylo began, furrowing his brows before continuing and glancing back to me, "I told you, after college, you and I can be together and we won't have to be a secret."

Finally, we reached the door to our hotel room, the number matching the one on the tag of the keys that he jingled in his hand as his other, slipped from the clasp of my own, forcing my fingers to curl into my palms as I sigh to his broad back.

"So..." I drawl, watching him stick the key into the lock and twist it, "When I am out of college... You'll divorce your Wife?" I say, almost too quickly, as I try to avoid the tension which could result, but I needed to know. 

Kylo's silent for too long, forcing my mouth to go dry and my tongue darted out to wet my lips as I watched him reach for the door handle after unlocking the lock above it. There was no silver ring upon his forth finger, not whenever I was around him, but he _must_ put it back on every-time he goes home.

The handle clicks when he twists it to the side, and at that very sound, my worries happen to crack in half and fall by my feet, for Kylo Ren was so close to me and I could even feel the cool heat spiralling off his body as he wrapped an arm around my waist and lead me inside the hotel room.

"Yes," He whispered to me, before kissing my temple, and a smile forms on my face at that simple answer. 

I glanced quickly to him as the darkness of the room eloped us, and his other hand searched for the light-switch along the wall. Our eyes locked in the gloom as night began to settle upon the rooftops outside the window, but I didn't even wish to look at the view, for Mr. Ren's face twitched at me and the silence proved that this was so close to everything that I ever wanted.

Silence, safety, protection, him and I _– Only, him and I._

Slowly, my eyes closed, and when they opened once again, the light had been flicked on – But I soon realise from its dull glow, that Kylo hadn't flicked the overhead lights on, but rather the beside lamp, which barely lit up the whole room, although, I could still see the beauty of it all.

It's your typical hotel room, classy in the most modern and unpersonalised way possible. The deep brown floor shines as well any polished glass. There are flowers upon the nightstands which are beautiful, the perfect shade of red to compliment the woody hues and the beige sheets of the large bed in the centre, which overlooks the city view. 

I turn around and grin as Kylo also took a small step towards me, the silvery lighting through the window combined with New York's atmosphere, flickering in the darkness, which illuminated him in an angelic way, but I could only presume that the way his eyes darkened, meant nothing but promiscuous intentions.

My skin only hummed with anticipation and a litter of goosebumps poked around my body as if a thousand of pins had been thrown onto me. He bit his lower lip down at me, leaving barely any space between our heaving chests, just as if we were still in the elevator and when he glances to the side, seemingly losing himself once again to the trappings of his intricate mind, I studied every single freckle upon his face, as if I were an astronomer.

He kissed me tenderly and my body only melted into his toned chest, wanting to swim in his bloodstream forevermore. I laced my arms around his neck and pulled him closer against my ribcage, to which he moans into the kiss and leaves my toes tumbling slightly to stay up-right, which is hard to say that I always have to stand on my tip-toes to meet his mouth. 

My entire body lit on fire on this fateful night when his tongue eloped mine, and I presumed that if this burning sensation was tangible, I would be the brightest thing in the cascade of New York City.

The kiss was slow and gentle, but when his hands cup both of my cheeks, it is quick to turn desperate and are both soon smiling like idiots against each-other. 

I combed my fingers through his long, raven hair and then pulled gently out of the kiss, my lips feeling suddenly cold. Mr. Ren's own lips trembled slightly at the separation, only to then still as he watched me carefully with those deep and dark eyes of his. 

My heart swelled incredibly, overflowing me with a sensation and a feeling unlike no other. It was so comforting to be held in his hands this way and to know that there would be nothing to soon tear them off me, to distract and divert those eyes onto anyone else – For he was mine tonight, and I was his.

Words failed me, leaving my mouth only parted and allowing whimpering sounds to escape. I had no way of forming a phrase to define everything that I was feeling in this moment, which only added to the many other times that I felt this adoring way, leaving every time spent with Kylo Ren, signified and everlasting. 

Professor Ren continued to hold my cheeks between his hands warmly, his fingers brushing the crimson of my cheeks only brighter, until he dropped them down to my waist and locked me into his embrace, his arms like stone being the cage to my heart – Although, there was nowhere I would rather be in the universe, other than with him.

Tenaciously and slowly, Kylo's face dipped to the crook of my neck and he whispered only four words into my ear, "Get on the bed."

We didn't bother to draw the curtains as we only withdrew our clothes. His sweet and mouthwatering scent filled the air and intoxicated my senses to a numbing purity. My Professor stood at the foot of the large bed, his eyes raking every inch of my exposed skin as I laid in the middle of the sheets in my underwear, waiting for him to join me.

The lace was so intricate that it almost had a pattern to it. It wrapped around the cups of my breasts and it seemed relatively innocent, if I didn't consider the fact that I had bought them for only my Professor's eyes to see. 

My giddy, pursed grin was foolish, but he only matched it as slowly, a delicious smirk stretched upon his inviting lips, and then all too slowly, he knelt on the bed, showcasing those toned thighs of his as he wore nothing but his boxers. 

As if he was a dangerous panther, I was the dimwitted prey that only watched him, totally entranced, as he crept up to me. Kylo Ren sucked a sharp and shaky breath into his muscly chest as his eyes flicked from my bust and to my face, his hands finally resting upon my legs and opening them to keep an empty space between for him. 

"Please," I whimpered as his fingers began to tear beneath the thin hemming of my underwear. Like I once said, impatience isn't my best virtue, and I couldn't wait any longer for the moment when he makes me truely _his,_ again and again.

My whimpers and soft pleas pushed him over the edge, and soon, Kylo snaps the lace down my thighs and groans roughly at the sight. 

He was growing impossibly harder with every second and every breath. Now shifting his eyes back to mine, he gulped slowly before dipping his head down to my exposed nature and swiping a long tongue along me, causing my hips to buck up and against his prominent nose, needing more – But he only did it once, before moving back out and forcing me into a deep kiss, where even I, could taste myself.

His hands moved to grope onto my hipbones, his fingers embedding themselves into the pudgy flesh and adding to the bruises, which I only adored. Breaking the kiss, I lay back into the soft pillows and chewed on my bottom lip. 

"Fuck," Professor Ren breathed helplessly, as if he was supposed to only curse inside his mind, but he spoke it aloud instead.

Catching my attention, I relished in the sound as his eyes only bore onto me, giving me a quick idea that made my cheeks and chest flush, but subconsciously, my hand was already making its way down the crimson of my breasts and down my ribcage, before my fingers slip into where his tongue once swiped, so delicately. 

His breathing was heaving rapidly and his eyes only watched me as his own lip sucked between his teeth. Through heavy lids, I don't think I even blinked once and as I trembled beneath him, I pulled my fingers away and all too sinfully, I puckered my lips and brought my finger to my mouth, only to then smirk and change its direction, resting my finger against the rose of his own lips. 

Neither of us said anything, but he opened his mouth eagerly and allowed my finger to glide along his tongue, before he pressed his lips around it and sucked it dry with another deep groan. 

I pull my finger away as he begins to curse once again, and this time, it was me to crash my lips against him as my fingers tangled into his hair and pulled him violently down. 

The situation was becoming increasingly urgent, our movements quickening and our hands gliding at every inch of our skin, as if we didn't have much time and that there was even a possibility of another student walking through these doors, too.

In one quick motion, Kylo shifts our position and suddenly I am sitting upon his lap with his head in my hands as I kiss him desperately. I straddled him and felt his incredibly erect member, dragging against me. Wave after wave, delicious and tenacious euphoria rippled through me as we began to grind in sync, all while his rough hands still grip onto my hipbones tightly.

The only time that I took my hands off him, was to pull his boxers down his legs, to which once they were gone, I slithered up and settled myself back into place, intentionally rubbing myself against him and seeming unable to hold back on my moans. 

Kylo's grip softened for a split second upon my hips, only to grip onto me tighter afterwards and lift me into the air and position himself below. 

I cried aloud and squeezed my eyes shut as he slammed my body back down onto him, filling my core to the brink in one swift, solid motion, leaving my hands to wail and scratch down his back.

Mr. Ren was yet to move, but he did crane his head to me as I laid my forehead upon his broad shoulder like a rag-doll, to which he softly pecked my jaw and whispered longing things into my ear.

"You ready?" He asked.

I nod into his neck, "Yes."

"Yes?" He repeated, but there was something laced to the tone.

I swallow roughly, _"Yes, Sir."_

Like a match being scrapped along gravel and thrown into a pool of gasoline, Kylo Ren growled and thrusted deep into me. Guiding with his hands, he moved my hips back and forth in unison with his movements, and my desperate own. 

The extravagant bed creaked, making even the old desk in the classroom, jealous, but it was our sounds which were for once, the loudest.

My fingernails embedded themselves into his back, for I didn't care anymore if his Wife saw the little marks that I too, would leave upon him _– For he was mine._

It wasn't long before we lost the withholding battles of intense passion and hopeful desire, and mercifully, we both toppled into our reverent and climatic, releases together. I gripped onto him a little tighter, my bust squishing against his sweaty chest as he still twitched inside of my clenched and constricting walls. 

Panting, we both soon collapsed into the beds with a soft thud, our arms still reaching for each-other and never wishing to let go. This time, it was his hand to tangle into the mess of mine, combing through it and rubbing his fingers along the scalp, which he kissed softly at the crown.

And when we both rest our heads into the pillows, I twist my body over and he pulls my back into his toned chest, with a satisfied sigh.

I couldn't help but pretend that this mere hotel room was our home, and we had just woken in the middle of the night to each-other's insomnia and promised that we would forever cradle our beating hearts and fight the night away, together – And that traitorous fantasy, was the very thing that kept _me_ up at night.

Turning over onto my side and now facing him again, something suddenly came over me and I wasn't sure if it was because this hotel room felt strangely like a safe-house, as if anything said and done here, would settle upon the furniture like dust or curl into the wallpaper walls, staying here forever – Or if it was because he was my safe-point entirely, utterly making me always feel so vulnerable and yet, he was the protector to my crumbling defences...

I stared deep into his eyes and the only sound was our own breathing and my own heartbeat, pulsating in my ears as we were so close, our noses almost brushing. Neither of us blinked, or maybe we did, but we were too in sync to even notice.

A lump quickly formed in my throat, but this wasn't one that I could swallow down, "Kylo?" I spoke, watching the way his lips twitched upon his name before continuing, "I think I love you," I whispered, my heart clenching with the overwhelming reality of those three _defining_ words. 

I had spoken them only once before, but I now know that I didn't speak them to Leo with my heart in my hands, wrapped up and ready to gift to him, like I had just done with my Professor. 

Tears began to glass along my eyes at the overwhelming silence that followed – I wasn't sure what I expected from that admission, but the way in which his face slightly falls and his breath only hitches, makes it feel as unworthy as speaking it to my mirror.

But, then his eyes softened, seeming lighter than they ever had before, and after a few more suspended seconds of staring at each-other, Kylo smiled. 

"I know," He whispered back, and I tasted his breath on the tip of my tongue, causing my mouth to almost water before he leans in and kisses me again for the thousandth time, though his passionate force made it seem as if it was our _first._


	27. TWENTY-SIX

I bite down on the insides of my cheeks as a lump forms in my throat, giving me a slight feeling of indigestion, but the acid isn't from my last meal, but rather, my twisting rage. The kitchen table has seen every emotion, from the sweet silent happiness of old family times, when the only sound is contented enjoyment, to the anger that bursts out in the hard times and shines in the reflections of the hanging pots and pans.

The home smelt of freshly cooked meats and a selection of multiple steamed and roasted vegetables, whilst my hands only smell of the migraine inducing scent of sugar cookie dough – That pre-made and packaged stuff that my Mother and I, would rush out and buy from the cheap supermarket, at least once a year.

And just like the many years before this one, my Father kept his tradition of leaving everything to the last minute, including even telling my Mother and I, that whilst I had been invited over for dinner, this was no ordinary feast – But it was instead, the annual gathering, where he would invite a couple of his colleagues, new and old, to our _welcoming_ home – Even though, for the last three years, it had been the same two Professors invited.

I could see the irritation swirling in my Mother's narrowed eyes and hiding in the white of her clenched knuckles as she put all of her frustration in neatly chopping the carrots upon her cutting board. It simply wasn't fair upon us, to expect almost a full course meal and dessert, in only a matter of rushed hours – But if anyone has yet to notice, my Father cared for nobody but himself.

I set aside a dozen of frosted cookies, picking out the worst of the bunch and setting them on a separate plate from the one that would be brought out to the dining table, in only a matter of hours. I was continuously fighting the urge to not smash the multiple plates upon the floor and scream, my anger coursing hot and heavy through my veins whilst the silence eloped the house as my Father was still out, getting the wine.

My Mother and I didn't speak – For we both knew that one of us would end up crying solid tears of rage and frustration, just like she had done the year before, and I can't help but think that it would be me this year, if she even uttered one complaint.

I took my time getting ready, letting myself breathe slow and remembering the peaceful pace of my heart, before the guests arrive and I am forced to fake a smile and sit uncomfortably at the end of the table, whilst my Father gets uncontrollably tipsy with his friends.

I climbed out the shower after washing away that dreaded smell of packaged dough and roughly dried off with the same towel that I ended up wrapping around my body before tip-toeing back to my old bedroom, faintly hearing the voices of the Business Studies Professor, who came every year with his Wife, who almost loved wine as much as my Father did.

The music begins to softly play in the dining room, as the kitchen begins to quiet down, all the plates neatly stacked and the roasts, warming in the oven – I shut my bedroom door, noticing all the little belongings of my Mother's, sitting on the bedside table, proving that she still sleeps in here, rather than by my Father's side.

I sigh and quickly get dressed before huffing to myself and sitting in-front of my vanity mirror. Bruises still lingered upon my collarbones, the faint reminder of Kylo and his silky kisses, but my top was careful to cover them as I still tugged the collar to the side to brush my finger over one blotch of purple with reverence and a small smile.

His words ring like a bell in my mind, over and over.

_"I know."_

I was blind and pathetic. That answer should have been a red flag, waving in a thrashing storm and alerting me to get the hell away from the dark eyes of brown that watched me that night – But I had permanently scorched my own gaze into the hue of a rose-colour, twisting my kaleidoscopic mind and changing the wavering glasswork of my heart, to form strong and shine with the glory that only Kylo Ren could give to me.

_"I know."_

I was a completely, utterly, pathetic excuse for a woman, who had always called herself capably, independent and strong, but now it only seemed that I now solely, relied on him. I couldn't believe myself – _Me,_ who had somehow fallen for the most abstruse man in the entire world. A man who was married to his work and Wife, a gorgeous man who had the emotional vulnerability of a brick wall, and who was literally so close and yet so unattainably far from being mine, without the defences of secrecy to hide our glass hearts.

The bow moved across the strings and I was lost in the music that slowly sang like a death march as I trudged down the hall and to the dining room. Note after note, a conjunct melody with velvet undertones, played in the background of laughter and conversations, which drifted from the instruments and rose to the high ceilings of my childhood home.

There was not a flaw in the tune, not a note missed, my brain focused entirely on the silken movements of the speakers as my introduction died down and the guests of the Business Professor, who I could never remember the name of, and his Wife, turned back and continued talking to my Mother, who was entertaining them as my Father went to go retrieve his first glass of wine from the kitchen.

I sat on the far end of the table, where there was no room for another chair to sit beside me, although it was always awkward when my feet would brush those of the guest's that would eventually sit in the seats on the left and right edges of the oakwood table. My eyes briefly shut closed as I rest my cheek on my fist, and I soon tried to only concentrate on the music, instead of the constant chatter, keeping the tune perfect and sorrow to my boredom... Until it was interrupted by the eerie sound of the doorbell.

I stood from my chair before my Mother's words were even spoken, "Will you go open the door, please?" She said to me with a bright smile – A smile which was as, if not more, falser than my own.

I force my cheeks to move but my eyes prove my bothering and as I turn to leave, the corner of the carpet which was below the table, nearly leaves me stumbling as the edge slightly curls up. Regaining balance and sighing, I roll my eyes to myself as the annoyance already settles upon my bones like heavy cement, and I make my way to the front door.

The song that played through the speakers was softly closing, in its final tune which began to fade as I only sauntered closer to the door, which vibrated as the doorbell was rung for the second time.

"I'm coming," I muttered beneath my breath, curling my hand around the doorknob, "I'm coming."

Before, all I focussed on was the hum of a calming song to ease the tension in my limbs and unsettled face, but when I finally open the door, my mind seemed to sharply dead-end, coil into pitch black and left me to scrape for mere focus as my breathing became sparse.

At first, all I saw was a bouquet of bright roses, where the petals seemed as if they were originally white but someone had dipped them delicately into blood. My eyes slowly fell to the feminine hands that held the paper covering the stems, and the silver, diamond ring around her finger.

My mind wouldn't focus anymore and my ears wouldn't listen to what was playing because it was only becoming the dedication to the crack in my heart, which the beat of the glass, stampeded through my body and the blood which it pumped, was boiling, burning out my veins, setting fire to my muscles and mustering all of my strength, to register that the world was still spinning and I wasn't being swallowed up by the surface.

My mouth dried, for all the water in me seemed to settle behind my eyes as I opened the door to the two _, new,_ guests, "K–"

Suddenly, my Father was by my side and opened the door that I clung onto, wider, forcing me out of the way as Kylo's eyes fell onto me, a small crease forming between his thick eyebrows.

"Ah! You're here!" My Father chimed, with a wide smile and already the glaze of blue eyes, "I am so glad that you could make it!"

I flinched at his words, suddenly remembering who the other guest was, that was always invited to my Father's unexpected dinners – Mr. Roy, my _old_ Professor.

His spare hand rested on her waist. Their feet moved into my home with synchronisation. A perfect smile teased the edge of her lips upwards in a crooked, playful way. The fingers that locked together, seemed to hold my heart in the palms of their hands, crushing it with their matching rings.

All at once, I wanted to lash out and punch my curled fists into the pretty eyes of her's, watching her skin turn as purple as the bruises that her Husband had given to me, along my collarbones.

How dare she walk into my home. How dare my Father invite the woman who he cheats on my Mother with. How dare Kylo Ren show up to my house, without telling me that he was coming, and openly interlock his fingers into her's.

"The pleasure is all ours." Kylo's deep and comforting tone, spoke against the music, only causing my stomach to flip and burn with anger and jealousy, "Thank you for inviting us, Harvey." He only added to my misery.

The song finally ended, and I looked up at him. Our eyes locked again, and neither of us smiled. It was a split second, a fleeting moment, but in my mind, I tried to convey the pain that I couldn't put into words, into the holding colour of my gaze – But all too soon, Kylo's brown eyes were back to his Wife. I looked to my feet and my shoulders shrunk, while my subconscious blocked out my feelings as a new song began to play.

My Father chuckled low, "No worries, I'm surprised that it has taken so long for us to finally sit down and have a proper conversation, one without a student's interruption." He chortled, his hands looking especially absent from the glass of wine that I am sure he is already missing.

I glance up to him, and my eyebrows furrow as I feel a slight sweat form at the back of my neck, when his glossy eyes flick to the blonde receptionist, who held tightly onto the bouquet in her hands.

Bile rises into my throat and tortures my guts. I hate them both, and now they're together in the home, that they had solely destroyed with their infidelities.

Kylo chuckles too, his gaze turning to me quickly and cocking a brow, as his tone has a sarcastic chime to it, although there is something unsettling sitting beneath his words, "Yes – Although, one may tonight."

His voice was nothing but a breath to my cheeks, thick with memory and light with prosperity, but I wanted to swipe them out of the air and then slap him across his porcelain face too.

Mrs. Ren turns to me with that _fucking_ smile of her's, "Here – These are for you and your family." She offers me the roses, to which I nearly snatch them out of her hands as my lips purse, only to stretch uncomfortably into a closed smile. 

I want to cut every thorn off the green stems and throw them onto that golden complexion upon her unblemished cheeks. I'm angry. _No –_ I'm absolutely seething at all three of them. The surprise was evident at the opening of the door, but now that the goosebumps fade and my heart slows, my chest only heaves as if someone had thrown a brick upon my ribcage.

"Good evening," My Mother's voice suddenly interjects as she curls around the hallway, letting her dress sway by her legs, just like every perfect house-wife's would in an old, black and white, 50's sitcom.

I'm trying so hard to force a look of pleasure or indifference upon my face, but there seems to be an anchor attached to my eyes and lips. I don't mean to pout so angrily at the bouquet, but, I seriously can't help it as we all walk further into the foyer.

If only his Wife knew that I was secretly sleeping with her Husband – Surely then, she wouldn't be gifting me flowers, or perhaps she would to my grave, ensuring that it was _my_ blood, upon the white roses. 

Also, I am certain that if my Father knew, he most definitely wouldn't have invited Kylo, and then if I added him _also_ knowing that _I knew_ he was sleeping with the receptionist, he wouldn't have invited her either.

My Father introduces everyone when we all finally make it back to the dining room, although, I am not certain how I did, for I have lost myself to the taunts and screams of my own thoughts and my legs are wobbling as if my bones are made of jelly.

Though, I did notice that he only introduced Mrs. Ren as Kylo's Wife, not his receptionist – Perhaps, to ensure a night without my Mother wondering if, indeed, this was the woman who stole her muse and love.

In the meantime, my Mother had sat Mrs. Ren down and taken the roses out of my hands to gasp about the beauty of them with her and the other Professor's Wife.

"– And well, you already know my daughter." My Father rolls his eyes and points over to me, before laughing and motioning Kylo into the kitchen for a drink.

I almost laughed at what was _really_ happening, right now. I felt as if I was suddenly trapped in a distorting nightmare, which felt too real and too traumatising. This _had_ to be a dream, but it clearly wasn't. I saw the facts and the logic, the reason and truth. There was no... Poetry, in my surroundings, there was no hint of imagination as my deepest agitations unfolded into reality.

There was a familiar feeling in my chest again, and it felt as though I was splitting in two, as if my heart was falling into tiny pieces once again.

Kylo tugs his coat off and drapes it over the end of his chair, which is the closest to mine, though his Wife is sitting in the one next to his spot.

Kylo walks passed me and I could easily tell that he brushed my shoulder with his intentionally, as he whispered something for only me to hear, _"All too well..."_

I'm pissed. Not a drunken kind of pissed. No, I am hands clenched, teeth gritted, eyebrows knitted together, kind of pissed. Frustration becomes the vex to my soul as my Mother only pretends to be mentally stable and my Father acts as if the blonde woman in front of him, isn't who he drapes his office blinds for.

I can feel the swelling of my veins, waiting to explode as I twist my fork into my food and avoid injecting myself into the conversations, only allowing myself to glance at Kylo, once with every song that plays.

And every-time, _he catches me._

My Father is drunkenly pissed. So is the other Professor and his Wife, and hell, even my Mother seems to be sipping a little too intently on her own glass, as if it is her life-raft to the drowning smile of her's.

When the balding man comes back into the room, after getting another glass for Kylo and himself, my Mother rolls her eyes at his stumbling and says, "Harvey, watch the carpet."

He swipes his hand through the air and carefully steps over the curled edge, which is by Mrs. Ren's chair, and places the glass of wine between the _couple._

"I must say, you two make a perfect pair," The Business Professor's Wife, glances to the Ren's and grins, with a gleam shining in the _real_ glass of her eyes, before she holds her glass to the violet lipstick upon her thin lips.

My heart crashes into my stomach and I clench my fist around my fork, all while my teeth sink into my bottom lip. Kylo's dark eyes watch me intently for a split second, his eyebrows furrowing with perhaps, warning, but I refused to stare back at him after watching his Wife's adoring grin.

She had a kind of understated enchantment, a wondrous beauty that only came to her because she seemed to be blissfully unaware of her prettiness. Her skin was tan and glowing against the white dress which she wore, seeming like the perfect bride as her blonde hair fell in perfect waves around her face.

My cheeks began to warm and every single feature on my face, felt as if it had grown at least double their actual sizes. I felt hideous compared to her, and if I hadn't known about her ill-play with my own Father, my unease would have multiplied too – For I was utterly baffled and confused, as to why Kylo Ren would even want me, when he already had her. To be in her company must make one feel as though they were someone important, that they had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season, for she smiles like the sun and her eyes shine like the blue sky.

And yet, ever since I had met Kylo, it had done nothing but rain.

"Thank you!" She chimes.

My Mother swirls the liquid in her cup, "Is it unjust if I ask if you share a little one?" She says without hesitation, leaving me to almost choke on my own spit.

Kylo looks to me again. His raven hair was ruffled, but not with sweat and anticipation as mine felt as if it was. He missed the way her eyes briefly glanced to him in adoration, the irises that were layered and textured with her love, whilst he and I seemed to have a secret battle with our clenched fists around our cutlery.

Suddenly, our hearts no longer feel as if they beat together or as one, but as if every other person's pulse was unsettling our own.

"Actually, yes." Mrs. Ren sighs with a loving smile, her eyes fluttering closed for a split second as if that baby photo which Mr. Ren had shown me, is printed onto the back of her eyelids.

When she opens her eyes again, is when my Professor looks away from me, and turns to her as she scoops her hand into the crook of his elbow, "Kylo and I have a beautiful son, he just turned eight months old."

At that moment, I was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter and sour. I gulped on the last bit of drink in my cup, wishing that it was wine instead of water.

_My Father sits silent._

My Mother makes a soft sound and holds her polished hand to her heart after setting down her glass, "That's amazing! Congratulations." She gasped, then pointing to me briefly, "I love the little ones, I wish you were two again. You were so precious, and so quiet –" She gushed, and I shrunk in my chair as Mrs. Ren glanced to me.

My Mother only continues as she gravitates Mrs. Ren's attention back to her though, "You know, her babysitters always used to say how remarkable it was, that she hardly ever cried–"

In my defence, I had never suspected that I could ever feel this way, that such... _Irrationality_ could possess my mind, whilst I sat here and felt betrayed, as if I was the one who was supposed to have my arm linked into Kylo's. But the feeling had crept up to me, and poisoned my blood as if a certain emotion was laced into the smashed potatoes upon my plate.

I could identify the emotion easily. It was jealousy. But this time, it felt entirely different, new in a way that I didn't like but couldn't escape in the same way that I had tried to flee from it, that day I sprinted away from Kylo's doorstep in the rain. It was as if a fire had ignited within my home and there was no escaping the walls that caved in on me as the embers caught alight on my skin, fuelled by only envy, which was hot and simmering.

_Kylo was mine. I was his._

My own little devil sat upon my shoulder, kicking and swinging its feet into the bruises upon my collarbones and twisting its tail around my neck as tight as a noose. It cackled in my ear and whispered to lean across the table and smash my plate upon the golden hair.

I swallow roughly as my Mother goes on and on, about embarrassing times of my childhood _– A time when she was truely happy._

I shake my head and stand from my chair, "I'm going to refill my cup," I mutter as I pick up my cup and try to walk as quick as I can out of the room, but suddenly, my Father grabs onto my wrist, just as I am about to walk out and I turn to him with the force of his grip.

"Fill my glass, will you?" He asks, his eyes heavy but his glass, light. I take it out of his hand as my jaw clenches at him, my eyes dark and smouldering, but he doesn't notice as he points to the curled edge of the carpet by Mrs. Ren's chair and says, "Watch the corner of the carpet."

After filling his cup and resisting the temptation to spit into it, I lean against the counter in front of the sink and let my eyes fall closed as the music only beats in the background. It was frightening to be alone, after having to keep a facade upon my surface for so long whilst dinner was being served.

Kylo Ren was in my house right now, with his Wife. I shook my head and twisted the tap on quickly, filling my cup and letting it overflow as the flame in my eyes watched the water drip down my hands endlessly.

I felt wounded but the deepest attacks were only to come. I couldn't keep up with this any longer, it had been eating at my insides and haunting my mind for too long now.

I didn't want to share Kylo Ren until he deemed a time to be worthy of allowing only _my_ love.

 _"I know."_ His words cradle my heart.

My mind raced, my heart sank, my mouth pursed into a thin line, but I couldn't unite my features into anything other than brooding. The silence made my ears ring, and yet, it wasn't silent – For I could still hear them in the other room, talking about their wedding.

The cups shake in my hands as I slowly walk back towards the doorway of the dining room and through the gap, only Kylo is watching me.

Our eyes met again, and somehow... I knew. I just felt it and I could understand that there was no need for an explanation, for he could tell it well enough upon my saddened face.

He could see the pain, he recognised it as disappointment or perhaps, he could also see the hint of undeniable jealousy. But – I felt the fear, I was enduring nothing but the torturous knowing that I would do anything, change anything, try anything and give up everything, to make him only mine.

My heart scared my mind, for I didn't know how to combat its nature, I didn't know how to cut off the heartstrings which tied me to him. My desire imploded on my glass occasionally, always leaving my vessel to fall helplessly and powerless to its longing control.

"– Yes. They do say, love is hard to find..." Mrs. Ren glances to her Husband, with an undeserving emotion swirling in her own, icy eyes, "But I must have been lucky."

My heart may be a tool of its own – But my head was a whirlwind of utter chaos, reverence and exhaustion, and all at once, I reached my tipping point. There were a thousand voices in my mind, a hundred emotions in my blood.

My face turned dark and the cups shook in my hands. The curl of the carpet was just near my toes, which I could have easily stepped over, just like I had ever since I was a child.

_But I didn't._

The cups stay in my hands, but the liquids inside them, mix in the air, and I watch in slow motion as I stumble into the side of the table, the way the water elopes the wine as it glides to the ceiling in my throw, only for gravity to pull the concoction back down and ultimately, miss my target completely, for the red liquid only fell upon the white canvas which was, _Kylo Ren._


	28. TWENTY-SEVEN

The wine had been spilled, it splattered upon his white shirt and sunk into his porcelain skin. Red liquid tattered all around as the silence hung suspended in the air, eyes gaping and wide as the same taste of bitterness, clung to their tongues as tightly as the stain will cling to his clothes.

Echoes of his Wife's voice shrieked, and hallows of my Father's frustration seeped into the throbbing of my ears, as the blonde woman dabbed her napkin upon his chest, and my Father stood me upright. A tangible scent of wasted wine flooded my senses and drowned all of my irritation to the darkest depths of my soul, but when Kylo's eyes turned to me, they only anchored me further down too.

My Mother had gasped against the music and stood from her chair abruptly to hand over more napkins to Mr. Ren's Wife, who put so much effort in trying to soak up all the spilt wine, as Kylo only sat soaking in his chair, with eyes of steel and a twitching muscle beneath them.

I swallowed roughly, and it felt as if I was choking on broken glass as I spoke to my Professor, "I'm so sorry, Sir –" I said, laying my empty cups on the table and holding my hands out defensively, "I tripped over the corner of the carpet."

"We really need to get rid of this old thing," My Father grumbled to the carpet, just as I watched Kylo, suck a sharp breath into his lungs, before mustering up all the strength he had to force a smile upon his face, where the wine mimicked the freckles upon it. 

"No worries," He said, with that deep tone, but there was something laced to it, something like a warning, "It happens to the best of us." 

His light phrase danced upon everyone's ears with pleasing turns, but his notions and sharp jaw gave my pulse humidity. What was I thinking? Well – I wasn't thinking at all, I was blinded by a cloud of extreme jealousy and all I could picture was the wine ruining the white of the blonde woman's dress, but ultimately, my aim was overthrown by his gravity, as if everything I did, was only for him. 

I gathered enough from the brown orbs and the expression around them, which shifted to everyone else, that while the others were here, I was safe. Though, through my stretch of imagination in my mortified state, I couldn't stay calm. Not that I was scared of Kylo Ren, when it was just him and I, but because I simply recognised that he knew every way in which he could destroy me. 

I was naive and ignorant, I was foolishly in love and envious of those who could take it away from me. Napkins turned red but his shirt never returned to white, nor did it dry. I stood rigid in my place, a sharp shudder running constantly, up and down my spine.

When the napkins are all laying soggy upon the hardwood table, even after Kylo had protested and even took it upon himself to fix the mess that I had caused, my Mother eventually sighs and tuts in that way that she always would, before her eyes then turn to me and she says, "Sweetheart, can you show Mr. Ren where the towels are and find him one of your Father's old shirts?"

My chest felt as if it was filling with concrete and weighing my guts down. With brittle effort, I parted my lips softly, after this whole time they had been tightly clamped together into a hard line. I nervously exhaled a breath which I didn't realise that I was holding and tear my eyes back to Kylo, to see the way he stiffens in his seat upon my Mother's request.

The thought of going upstairs with Kylo Ren in my childhood home, alone, scared me – And not because of the fact that I had just stained his shirt with rich wine, which made the cloth cling to his chest and make his skin sticky, but because for once, I didn't know what to expect this time, when we were to be away from prying eyes. 

I opened my mouth to speak but the air that I sucked in, only felt as if I had inhaled a sandstorm, to which my tongue dried and my throat clenched closed. 

I nod as Kylo refrained from shaking his head and instead, stood as his Wife patted him on the shoulder and my Mother announced that she would prepare dessert in the meantime. 

"I'll help." The beautiful, blonde woman beamed, her eyes eager and grin wide as she too, got up from her seat and walked into the kitchen with my Mother.

My patience was horrid and slowly cracking as every second chips away at me. The music still softly played in the distance as I walked stiffly up the stairs, Kylo's heavy footsteps behind me, proving that he was indeed, following in silence.

I felt as if I was trudging to my execution and as though the stairs had multiplied by five-hundred, only making time my worst enemy, as it allowed room for my apprehension to sink in.

My mind was trying to reason with my anxiety, but the other voice seemed to be louder than its mere whisperings of that the fear is only the culmination of my previous frustrations, which I didn't handle very well at all. Step by step, we finally made it to the second floor of my home, and I lead him over to my parent's room, where even the clock on the beside table, ticked violently. 

I hated time, that must be why I had been initially so drawn to Kylo, for time didn't exist when I was around him – But still, time was my enemy, for no matter how long I could lay wrapped in his strong arms, the tender moments which I cherished deeply, always ended eventually, leaving my body as miserable and cold as the weather.

The silence elopes my heart entirely, and threatens to chew it up and spit it back out as I walk to the ensuite to retrieve a towel, before avoiding his gaze and then heading to my Father's walk-in-closet. Kylo follows, and as soon as I switch the lights on and walk further into the closet, he forcefully switches them off, throws the towel to the ground and corners me against the wall, just as I had picked him out one of my Father's old shirts.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" Kylo suddenly, growls right into my face, his face contorted, eyes narrowed and spit flicking against my bottom lip. 

I flinch at the roughness of his tone and the slight pinch around my wrists as he twists them in his big hands, against the wall of my Father's closet, forcing me against some hanging coats. 

"I tripped." I scoff, narrowing my own eyes at him and keeping my tone strong, despite my weak defence, "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" I challenged. 

My Professor's grip tires for a second as he allows my protest to sink in, only for his hands to clench tighter around my bones, forcing my own hands to loose blood and turn pale.

Kylo simply shrugged, "Your Father invited us," He said cooly, as if it wasn't a big deal and as though, he wasn't pressing me against the wall of a closet. 

I raised an eyebrow and inhaled deeply through my nose, trying to steady myself, despite the fact that I presume if I tried to move, he'd only push his hands further against me. 

"And you didn't think to tell me?" I ask, resentment evident in my stand-offish and utterly hurt tone. 

Dark hair snaked around his white face, where even in the darkness of the closet, his eyes still sparkled. His chest rose and fell softly, features relaxed but shoulders broadly firm. 

Mr. Ren's eyes moved across my face as if he was deeply thinking about something, and he was hoping to find the answers upon my cheekbones. I could smell the sweet scent of wine, exuberating off his chest and to my nostrils, seeming to even threaten a sense of intoxication as I glanced briefly to his lips. 

"No, because I didn't assume that you would be here," I watched him say, then tearing my eyes away from the rose of his mouth, which matched the stain upon his shirt. 

Annoyance pinched at my cheeks and seeped into the crimson that rose upon them. I scoffed into his face and rolled my eyes, allowing myself to forget briefly for a moment, about the guests and my parents downstairs. 

"Well – You could have at least mentioned it, and maybe, perhaps... Not have invited your Wife!" I scold, my eyes glaring daggers into his own, to which, I can even see the fury of my face, in the reflection of his brown eyes. 

All at once, Kylo tilts his head to the side and a small, mischievous smirk rises into his soft cheek, "You look pretty when you're jealous," He chimed, ignoring my sentence and instead, taunting me. 

Despite the fluttering of butterflies in my stomach, the anger only pulled them into the acid and watched them burn. I swallowed audibly and glared at him. Leaning in, my voice was dark and stern, but he never once felt threatened by me, "Don't touch me," I protest, thrashing my hands in his grip but he doesn't even flinch at the force of my words, let alone my blows. 

He knits his thick brows together and lifts my hands off the wall, only to shove them back into it. "Stop that –" He spat, but at the sound of my whimpers, his face falls, only to contort back into a pensive smirk, "You can't resist me, no matter how jealous you are."

He was right – For the next thing that I knew, was his mouth was pressed against mine and my legs were wrapped around his waist. I could feel his ring now pushing into the skin of my thighs as my dress rode up and exposed, not my least-flattering underwear, but definitely not the silk or lacy type that I would usually wear for him. 

I ran my tongue along his lower lip and he quickened the kiss with needing desperation. I was incapable of thinking too far beyond the waves of pleasure that rippled passed my lips, down my throat and made a home in my chest.

With soft moans, we tried to be as quick as we could, the faded music being the only reminder of where we were, and who exactly was downstairs. Kylo manoeuvres my body easily in his strong hold, allowing one hand to slide from the bottom of my thigh and to my underwear, which was pressed against the stained shirt of his.

I pushed my hips further against him, almost roughly, and accidentally, push him away from the wall in the force, but he balances himself with a low gruff and smacks my spine back against it, grinding himself into me.

His lips are the sweet grapes of wine, and they leave me falling nothing but drunk to the taste of his soul. His thumb rubs me in slow, steady circles, his expertise practiced against my most sensitive area, unimaginably. 

My thighs trembled around him and my knees ached, but I only wrapped my arms tighter around his broad shoulders as our mouths broke away, allowing him the skin of my neck to replace the lips of mine, which I now suck between my teeth.

Just when I was struggling to keep in my moans, is when Kylo's fingers move away and push aside the fabric, only to then suddenly, push two of his long fingers inside me, without any preparation or warning. 

A broken moan escapes my throat, but Kylo is quick to cover it. He rubs my cheek after he slaps it, his lips of poison then crashing back to mine as his fingers inside me, leave me only wanting more and more.

The sting of his slap is too sweet to not press myself deeper into his hand, which now cups my cheek as his waist and my legs around him, are the only things that are keeping me pressed against the wall.

Kylo Ren lingers in my heart which was once filled with envy, only now it sheds its darkness and allows him to seep light through the cracks. His desire follows the light, curling in the depth of my chest and illuminating my lust.

I can feel the euphoria build in my abdomen and tighten my walls. My kisses turn sloppy as my eyes roll to the back of my head and my fingernails only lightly cling to his ruined shirt. Mr. Ren tightened his grip upon my cheek, his blunt fingers pushing into my pudgy, red skin. I writhed and moaned unapologetically as he only pushed me over the edge, the music drowning out most of my sounds but his kiss only sucking them out of my heart completely.

He knew my climax was coming as did I, and just when the bliss began to unfold, is when his fingers slip out of me and leave me feeling incredibly, _empty._

I go limp, despite the fact that I feel as if I am currently the most tense as I have ever been. He readjusts my underwear and in one quick motion, pulls one of my legs from around his waist, setting my wobbly feet back upon the floor, but he keeps his hands around my back, holding me close as I try to register what is happening. 

My forehead rests against his sticky shoulder and my chest shook against his own. Like always, he was the source of my trembling, but given his arms entanglement around my waist, he was also the only thing that was keeping me stable. 

My eyes fluttered open, my vision blurred but the fabric of his shirt was the main focus as my vision too, turned red.

His fingers ran through my hair and I whined at the difference between soft and rough, "Ah, Ah –" He tutted, "Bad girls don't get rewarded. Especially the jealous kind."

I lifted my head slowly, dragging my nose along his neck and jaw until my eyes were narrowing to his own. Kylo's lips brushed mine as he spoke, a pensive smirk rising with the mischief in his tone. 

I turn my face when his own goes back to my neck.

"But I must tell you my honest truth..." His lips whispered at my ear while his hands curl around my hipbones, "I'm jealous too."

My body went rigid, even before he gave it the chance to relax. My fingers dug deep into his shoulders and stars began to speckle the darkness of my closed eyes, all before they shot open and my face flinched away.

My confusion is evident upon my face as I begin to whisper but he cuts me off.

"Who's Leo?" He suddenly snapped, as if the lips that curled as he spoke weren't just dancing with mine, only seconds before and as if he hadn't pressed himself so harshly against me, that I too, now smelt of bitter wine. 

The closet walls, all at once, seem to crawl in on me, leaving my chest to cave in and a sense of incredible claustrophobia to claw at my insides. My mouth went dry again, but my eyes glazed with a thin layer of tears. 

_"What?"_

He furrowed his brows, but kept his hands around me, "Leo." He explained, his tone rough and demanding again, "You said his name a few weeks ago to me in the rain, and then it was in a message on your phone."

All remaining hints of lust and euphoria, sink from my core and fall coldly to my trembling feet. The realisation is harsh and my mind flicks back to a message that Percy had sent to me, that night when Kylo and I, spent our time in the grand hotel.

From the sweetest of nightmares, I close my eyes in hopes I will open them to his bittersweet caress again, but when I glance back to him, I find that I am not dreaming and in-fact, he is still glaring at me. 

"You read my messages?" I ask, apprehension clouding my mind and forcing me to now press myself into the wall, trying to force space between us. 

Kylo shrugs, "I may have glanced at it in the hotel room."

I was once drunk on lust, but Kylo, he was drunk onvexation and fury.

It's the only plausible words to accurately characterise how he's coming off, with those narrowed, dark eyes and seething words. It's written all over every part of him, how his body is stiff from the animosity, the pungent shade of red his face is beginning to blemish the porcelain. 

My lungs ached and my skin prickled, "Leo's nobody. I can't believe that you wou–" I tried, as the confusion and perplexity felt as if now, the ceiling was falling upon me, but Kylo snapped. 

"Really because that message from–" He hushed, face twisting as he tries to remember the name that had burnt into his memory, from all those nights ago, _"Percy –_ Said otherwise." He finally said, causing a lump to form in my throat.

He read my message. After all this time, running in secret and handing over my heart, did Kylo still not trust me? The pressure that my nails are cutting into the palms of my hands are sure to leave small, little crescents, though I don't seem to care much about that as of right now.

My face is beginning to grow hot, rising in temperature as his words loop around in my head and I try to analyse how this had suddenly twisted into a fight about the stupid, _fucking,_ bastard – Leo Grey. 

Arms laying at my sides and refusing to touch him, my fists are clenching and unclenching, as I start to suck in a deep breath. My mind is running to consider every outcome of every possible remark that I can protest his wrath with. 

"Lower your voice." I scold, biting on my tongue and shaking my head slowly at him, "My messages are none of your business." I whisper.

Kylo's got his teeth sunk into the flesh on the inside of his cheek so roughly, and I only assume that it's his own best attempt at holding his tongue – He may very well draw blood if he doesn't release his clench as his jaw tightens and the scent of his stained shirt, starts to stale with the tension. All he's feeling is anger, he's angry, but I can see the hint in his darkened eyes, I can see the _jealousy._

"Ah – They are if they are about you _hooking_ up with someone." He retorts, tilting his head to the side and leaving little space between our heaving chests.

I huff a breath of exasperated and annoyed, laughter. The reigning anger is starting to build in my body again, this time with a vengeance much stronger than the rage which resulted in me throwing the wine into the air., aiming for his Wife – Who is still downstairs, and we only have a small window of time left before her and everyone else, begin to wonder what is taking Kylo and I, so long.

The hostility in the small space of the closet, is beginning to swallow my anxiety up entirely. It's like the pressure keeps building, and building, weighing down on my heart until I can no longer feel it even beat. He's still going, still muttering things under his breath, not quite ready to let the argument die.

"Hooking up? Leo and I shared a kiss at a party a few weeks ago, _you know,_ during the time that we both refused to even glance at each-other on campus grounds." I snap, then rolling my eyes and scoffing, "– Besides, you can't talk, you literally have a Wife, waiting downstairs."

He rolls his own eyes too, "A _cheating_ Wife."

"And you're her cheating Husband." I quickly interject, my eyebrows raising and my jaw clenching, "Look, Kylo –" I begin, but as soon as my words form upon my tongue, I can't help but taste the trepidation that laced them. I breathe in and out calmly as the sound of the soft music, is the only thing which can be heard, from the walk-in-closet that he and I, stand in.

My eyes meet his, no longer red with rage, but soft and vulnerable. The flame in his own gaze was also waning. I knew that my previous interjection had offended him, but I simply ignored the urge to apologise, and only continued. 

"... There is no justification to what we are doing, but I have promised you that I am nothing but yours, despite the prejudice that I endure whilst doing so, when I know that you still wear a silver ring that ties you to another woman." I say, and I can feel that tender ache in my heart again, the jealous twist. The knife, slowly embedding into my love. 

Suddenly, the vexation disappeared and only left the vessel of a wounded man behind, and I only felt wounded for being the reason that his face fell in a way, in which I had never seen before.

"Not for long." He uttered. 

And all at once, the anger has disintegrated, completely ridden from the tension and banished. I'm completely winded from the twist of emotions, it is as if he had thrown me into a washing machine with all these tensions and feelings, only to turn it on and watch their colours stain my skin.

He still stands broad shouldered in front of me, but his hands are now pulling my own apart so my fingernails wouldn't dig any further into my palms. 

"No – Not until I finish college," I shake my head and sigh, letting go of my toxic rage and allowing him to slip his hand into mine, "Which, if you take a careful notice at my results, my stay is already over-welcomed and it won't be long before I am kicked out by my own Father..." I ramble.

When he doesn't respond, I look up from the interlocking of our hands and back to his eyes, "Kylo – I'm not sure if I can keep up with this... _Act."_ I whisper my truth.

I can almost smell the very guilty feeling which is coursing throughout him, _rightfully so_ , because perhaps now he can see that he may have taken this jealousy-induced fight a little further than necessary.

"It's not for much longer..." He said again, as if they were the only words that were constantly circling his mind, and keeping him gripping onto hope.

I shake my head again and my voice begins to wobble to the sorrowful tune in the background, which almost seems as if it is played merely upon my heartstrings.

"No, you're right. It's only a matter of time before you will have to leave her if you truely want me," I try to snap, but my words only sound unsure, "– Although, I can't help but notice that she doesn't seem to think that separation is _soon_ coming, and even if you do leave her, what then? We will certainly still have to be a secret, for my Father won't be impressed and I am sure that you will lose your job too."

His eyes froze time again. He was silent and still for so long, but when Kylo eventually spoke softly again, all of space seemed to click into place.

_"Then, leave with me."_

I bite on the inside of my cheek, "Don't be stupid."

He nods, "I'm serious," He said, squeezing my hand only once, "Leave with me."

My heart almost stopped beating, leaving me dead, a cruel ending for a crueler affair. I had never once, thought that Kylo would ever say something along those lines, in-fact, there was still a part of me which still fretted that he wouldn't even leave his Wife. 

My desire is already packing its bags and waving a goodbye, ready for a change, although, never a change of heart. 

"L-Leave?" I stutter, my eyes blown wide with uncertainty, "Where would we go?"

Kylo leans down slightly to my level, his hands still holding onto mine but he pulls them up between what little space is between us, our knuckles both brushing the beats of each-other's chest. 

"It doesn't matter where – We could go anywhere we wanted, or we could even stay in New York." He explained, his voice lighter than previously, but still... _Different._

My breathing gets heavy, a little at first, before my chest is heaving unevenly. My eyes are completely wide, pupils blown out in utter surprise, before the tears start to rise. _  
_

I didn't even notice the few tears that follow his words, slithering down the sides of my cheeks before he feverishly wipes them away with our interlocked hands.

"I don't understand..." I croak.

He smiles, this time, not in a taunting way, nor the mimicking of a Devilish smirk, but this grin seemed naked, vulnerable and... _Real._

"Sweetheart, drop out of college and I will quit too." He replied, licking his warm lips and continuing as the bottom rose, wobbles slightly, "We can start somewhere new, I could easily get another job at another school and you never have to worry about pressures from your Father, nor the fear of keeping this... _Secret."_

He breaks the entanglement of our hands, only to thumb away a few more of my tears, the ones that have rolled further down my heated cheeks and dwelled along my chin. 

Kylo Ren coos, lulling me out of this trance of surprise and almost bringing me back down to his slowed surface, where he controlled the time, weather and tension, but I can't hear anything in his world – For there's not much that _could_ be heard over the thumping sound of my heart in my chest, "Drop out?"

Mr. Ren still smells richly of wine, and his shirt still tightly clings to his chest. I could see everything in that one smile of his, and everything that I endured because and for him, come back to me in that mere teasing glance. 

He bit his bottom lip lightly, only to let it go and speak against the music again, "I could give you everything," He says, just as he had done so, that time we said goodbye in the rain. I wish I could tuck that stubborn strand of hair behind his ear as it keeps falling in-front of his adoring eyes, but he doesn't seem to mind it, "If you just... _Give up something."_ He added.

He sparked something inside of me again. A fire – A raging, destructive fire which I couldn't help but feel, because his own burned so brightly, it became infectious to my weakened system. 

My anxiety spikes radically, clenching upon my heart and squeezing my guts, but when his hand curls around my own again, he brings me back down to reality with a reassuring smile,

"It's just like you said, it's only a matter of time–"

Suddenly, footsteps can be heard and so is the opening of the bedroom door. 

I tried to blink to bide _my own_ time, but this was as far as Kylo could stretch it out. He rushes to the light-switch as I am quick to pick up the forgotten shirt that I had come to retrieve. I blinked against the abrupt light change, but it was the icy chill upon my body, which burdened me the most as my Father groggily walked to the door of the closet.

"– Did you find a shirt?" He rasped, leaning his arm against the frame of the door, which Kylo also casually leaned against, far enough away to suggest that perhaps, he wasn't the reason for the glassy look in my eyes or the red blotches on my cheeks, which could be mistaken for the marks of embedded fingers. 

"Yes," I turn, with the fakest smile that I have ever had to produce, as I casually hand it to my Professor, us both ignoring the shaking of my hands, before I glance back to my intruding Father, "I had to search the deepest parts of your closet to find the smallest size." 

His light, eyebrows only slightly twitch at my small diss, but he chooses to ignore it as instead, he nods and says, "Alright, come on. Let Mr. Ren get changed, the ladies are dishing out dessert."

There's so much more I wish to say to him, but I don't even know if I have much time left, before this silence answers for me instead. Kylo Ren had never been this open with me, never had he been so vulnerable. 

Drop out of college and start somewhere new? I couldn't even imagine a life without college, even though I never put much effort into it. 

What would a future look like, with Kylo Ren being the centre of it all? He would change schools, teach another class and come home every night, to only me. I know he said that he would do everything for me, but that taunting whisper of my jealousy, couldn't help but imagine him laying eyes upon another girl in another college, and twisting her into his perfect, ignorant, Lolita, _too._

 _No – No, that won't happen._ He had already risked everything for me, and will only give up the rest once the time is right _– I have to trust him._

And yet, my eyes kept glancing to his as we sat back amongst the table again, and my heart ached at the possibility of a future. 

I would do anything, give everything and even rip out my own veins for him. I would write him a million poems, I would endure a thousand paper cuts. I want to hold his hand wherever he goes, and I want to stroke his cheek and smile reassuringly when he doubts the world. 

My hands curl at my sides and the dessert, and cookies lay untouched on my plate before me, where besides my silver spoon, a small droplet of wine remains upon the wood. I would both cherish and loathe the sounds of his happiness, forever wishing that it was only me who was the one that could make him laugh, as he just did to the slurring joke of my Father's.

My nails imbed themselves into my palms again, I need to know what he is thinking – I need to know that he is speaking nothing but truth and the promise of a future which does involve me and _not_ the cheating woman by his side. She had the perfect man, practically wrapped around the silver of her finger, and she wasted him – I would die a thousand times over to be the one in her place, curling my hand into the crook of his arm. 

Kylo's words from a while ago, flood my mind and sit heavy in my cup, _"I could give you everything,"_ He had said, and yet, I found out that all I ever wanted, _was him._

There is so much I could give to him too, if only he indeed, gave me the time to give him everything in my heart. I feel as if I was put on this Earth purely to be by his side, and yet, nature works in twisted and cruel ways, ensuring that it would be a battleground that we must endure first before stemming our _relationship._

God – I _must_ love Kylo. I truely must love him more than anyone else ever could. It's pure, its unconditional in its fragile design. He created this love, he made me feel this way. 

His eyes glance back over to me, and I know there is a hint of vulnerability swirling around my blown pupils. Nobody else is looking as he seems to slow time in that remarkable way in which he always would – Turning the boisterous chatter into nothing but low drawls, and the scraping of cutlery, leisurely slowing into only a resemblance of the strings being played on a violin. 

I'm asking him with one look, to keep to his promise and either stay with me once I drop out of college, or take me wherever he intends to go, forevermore – And I hope that he is understanding the vows that my heart speaks, for in the slightest of movements, he nods his head with a small, lopsided smile.

Just like hands being held in darkness and kisses shared behind locked doors, Mr. Ren then, locks his ankle around mine beneath the dining table, and in our secret gaze, I can only assume that he is truely promising me, _everything._


	29. TWENTY-EIGHT

_"So – This is the end?"_

Kylo Ren inhales a large breath, moving my body up as I rest my head upon his toned chest, only to fall back down slowly as he breathes it out. "I suppose," He whispers into my hair.

Tomorrow, our secret came to a loud end, but tonight, there was a silence to New York City unlike no other when the sun retreated into the horizon and the midnight moon, took its place. 

After another long, tiring day, where the halls are filled with rustling papers and the tapping of student's quick feet, echoed upon the floors of the college, the night finally ebbs onwards, and he and I retreat back to the hotel, where the room is nothing but drastically empty from interlopers, allowing only our hearts and gentle hushes, to break the eerie quiet.

It was the first night that rain hadn't tried to wash away our sins, a night which was unusually warm as midnight had marched steadily towards us, while we spent another night listening to each-other's harmonious breaths, and basking beneath the illuminance that the city skyline gave as it radiated through the hotel room's wide window and onto the tangling of our veins and bones.

I smile softly to myself at his reply, to which I could even feel those simple words vibrate through his chest and around his beating heart. With dreaming visions behind closed lids, came the heartwarming feeling, unlike no other... Home, or finally, peace. It seemed I only felt this way, when the sun falls to the moon's undeniable power, bringing a flicker of devoted happiness to blossom in the cracks of my heart at the mere warmth that only, Kylo Ren could bring to me, in the dark, cold nights of secrecy.

But, in only a matter of time, our love was to never spare a second moment in the icy chill of unsolicited confidentiality, for a while ago, he had asked me to leave with him, and I said yes – Furthermore, with the addition of a slow drawl of time, departure had soon come and finally, it was _our moment._

In the sweet affectionate darkness, the sounds of a busy, city night became loud to my ears. I listened intently for a split second to the sounds coming from the horns of cars, distant and drunken shouts of slickers, and even the whisper of the wind which seemed thunderous – But, I only continue to grin meekly to the clashing of noise, for his heartbeat below, was all I ever wanted to hear, forevermore. 

Despite how quiet I had stayed during the loud days spent in his class or the hours spent with shy shoulders and enchanting eyes hidden behind my hair, I couldn't get away from the feeling, the whispers of my demolished morals, or even the inbuilt shame. However, tonight, we had seemed to shed our secrets from our broken skin, just the same as we had stripped out of our clothes – One more day. One more day spent in that _damned_ classroom, and we would be free.

Cocooned in a ceramic bathtub, Kylo took up most of the space, leaving nowhere for me to stay, other than practically on top of him – Although, neither of us were complaining.

The water was warmer than the weather, but the scent was unlike anything compared to the city – It was the perfect mixture between sweet and wild, for the bubbles were popping only with the scent of berries and the other hints of musk, where purely the fresh aroma of Kylo Ren, himself. The bubbles were raised high above the waterline, covering our indecency, but every once and while, Kylo would slightly shift and my breasts would poke through the white cloud of soap – And I wasn't sure if he was doing that intentionally or not. 

I was settled against his chest and in between his long legs, allowing just the perfect position for him to wrap his toned arms around my waist and stomach, only pulling me in closer. 

We hadn't disrupted the serenity for a while, not until I spoke previously, but the water was yet to cool around us – Perhaps, that was the benefit of Kylo always making my body shudder with his heated touches or turn my cheeks incredibly pink. 

The night reflected upon the ceramics of the bathroom, giving it a certain, pure glow unlike no other, and as the dimly casted shadows of a burdened scheme disappear and leave only us to be ourselves, I can't help but to think as if the world knows that changes are coming, and from now onwards, we will be our very own safe-haven.

I lift my head up from his chest slowly and turn in his grip, holding my hand on his chest for support as my eyes meet his own, "Did you do it?" I ask him, and although my sentence was vague, he knew exactly what I meant. 

Kylo's pink lips twitch, ever-so-slightly and then he nods, "Yes." He says, as his skin lays as naked beneath both me and the mountain of fizzing bubbles, as the bare finger on his left hand. 

I can't help but notice the jolt in my own heart at his answer, the stuttering pause of a hopeful beat, and I especially can't help but silently hope that he doesn't feel the undeniable rapture in my chest, as easily as I can feel his steady beat between us. 

I swallow slowly, and not because of that constant lump, which always seem to rise in dreaded moments around him, but because I am honestly trying to focus on anything, other than the invisible string which is tugging on the corners of my lips, tantalisingly.

"How did she react?" I whisper to him, just as he begins to interlock our fingers in the space between us, covering the glory of his eyes but only proving his worth as the lack of silver, no longer cuts into my hand. 

He sighs, and I can feel his warm breath fan against my hand, causing goosebumps to rise along the delicate skin and then skate over the rest of my body, "As expected," He muttered, then pulling my hand back down to his chest to meet my eyes, "Confused, angry, hurt... Only to then fall quiet once she realised it was only a hint of karma for her own doing."

As if the strings tied to my lips, are immediately cut in half with a very shard of my heart, my face falls and I blink away from the glint of hurt which swirls in the brown of his eyes, only to stare at his pale collar bone, where I had painted it with violet bruises.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, despite the fact that there is no part of me which feels an inkling of guilt, for being the additional cause which lead to his divorce... _The hint of karma._

He shakes his head, his fingers letting go of mine, only to dip beneath my chin and gingerly, tilt my head back to him, drawing my eyes back into his, every-time as if he had some magnetic pull within the brown.

"Don't be," My Professor soothed, brushing and curling a wet strand out of my eyes and behind my ear, only to then fall back between my wide eyes of colour, when he next spoke, "I'm not."

I cocked my head to the side, only nuzzling my cheek closer into his big and wet hand. Furrowing my eyebrows together lightly, there was questioning upon my features, as he held onto me as tightly as the warm water eloped us. I assumed that I knew all of his answers imaginable, for he was nothing but honest ever since that fateful day in which I had uncovered all of his secrets about his marriage... And yet, I still asked, 

"Why?"

Long strands of raven hair were stuck upon his skin, the glaze of water only making him seem even more like a perfect, porcelain sculpture. In the drawn silence, I expected that Kylo wasn't going to answer my question, as he began to move his hand from my cheek and into my wet and knotted hair. 

My eyes closed before him, and I only pushed my head closer into his hand as I thoroughly enjoyed the tender and devotional way his long fingers pushed through my strands, occasionally scraping at the nape of my neck.

I melted into his touch completely, seemingly turning into water myself and allowing the bubbles to cloud over me with evanescence. Time slowed again, tonight suspending its clocks and halting even the wind, for Kylo had me in his powerful grip again. 

I hated how short time went without him, and yet, he seemed to only drag it out some more, beautifully, when I was with him. 

"Because I've got you," He finally said, causing time to quicken now just as much as my heartbeat ran. My eyes fluttered back open and found his, but they only closed back again with high anticipation, when he leaned in. 

I couldn't hold back the small whimper and he couldn't contain his low groans as the wet lips of his, encased me dominantly. Mr. Ren attacked my lips with his own, causing the water to swash and thrash around us as we tried to grope and hold onto every inch of each-other's skin. 

I moaned as I twisted and settled myself upon his thick thighs of pure muscle, my knees pounding against the back of the tub, which his spine pressed into as I pushed myself against him. 

I could feel all of him beneath me, growing and tensing with every move of my hips, and every sway of the soapy water. Kylo pulled his lips away and sucked a sharp breath into his chest, before he then began to nibble and kiss at the flesh of my neck, distracting me while his large hand moved from my face and to his hard length which was pressed between our abdomens. 

"Kylo," I moaned, to which I would never admit that I had purposely let his name slip, only to feel the sharp sting of his other hand, slap against my bright red cheek, earning a low growl and my next stuttering, "S-Sir!"

Next thing I know, he was madly driving into me, with rhythm and rough play. He held my hip with one hand, the other, cupping tightly around the mound of my breast. I squeeze my thighs against his own, curling my arms around his neck and bringing his face into my chest, too. 

With an animalistic growl, Kylo grits what seems to be the sound of my name, right against my heart. Pressure was building and soap was dwindling as the water kept slapping against the tiled floor around us, with every movement. 

He was all mine now, as I was always and forever, entirely his. There was no longer the burden of a silver ring around his finger, and I could only childishly hope that I would own the next matching band with him. 

Long, treacherous and heartbreaking months had slowly gone by since he had first laid his eyes upon me, ignorantly squeezing my bleeding finger which I had caused by a paper cut... And at the start, what we did, was purely based on attraction and desire _– Something which I had presumed to be exiled from my soul entirely –_ And also, despite the heartbreak and the uncovering of secrets, Kylo Ren had made my love worth the endless battle, for now, I had him in the heated embrace of my arms and in the cage of my heart, which no longer snapped and trembled with the anxiety of twisted fates and repercussions. 

Our voices rose above the sacred silence, to only then fall back down into quickened breaths and drunken smiles. Finally, he scooted comfortably back into the ceramic curl of the tub, but kept his hands upon my hips, holding me in place upon him. We stayed this was for several seconds, minutes or hours – I would never know, for time never seemed to exist around him. 

And just when the water was beginning to cool, lapping lower than it was around us and drying into the grout of the tiles, he was the one to speak into the quiet and this time, ask _me_ a question, "Are you still planning on dropping out?" 

The question made a slight sharpness cut across my lungs, making my breath hitch but my mind knew there was no reason to panic – I had gone through it a thousand times over in my head and then once more, just to ensure that I was going to do, was both the best for me and the best for... _Him?_

I nod, "Yeah –" I breathe slowly, eyes locking with his, "I was actually going to do it tomorrow... After class."

I haven't told anyone about my plan of leaving college yet, not even my Father, who I will be especially avoiding tomorrow, and instead, handing in my resignation to the main office. I wasn't quite sure what his reaction would be – Most definitely, my Father will be mad, but ultimately, I know that he wouldn't protest anyway, for it was only a matter of time before he would have to kick me out, himself. 

I never cared for college, and I never seemed to care for anything as much as I cared for the handsome man in-front of me, who meekly grinned at my words, crinkles forming around the browns of his eyes. He was all I ever wanted, and now I have him, but it was just another precaution to quit our places at the college.

Kylo Ren chuckled low, "One last lesson?" He chimed, somehow sending our conversation to back where we started. 

I laugh and pull my bottom lip between my teeth, for the invisible string was tugging my smile too wide in this very moment. With gentle eyes and an opened heart, I whispered my next words, this time, without missing a single beat, _"I suppose."_

The sun was blistering hot and I even feared for a slight moment, that the cement pavements were melting the rubber of my shoes as I walked to class, where I would spent my last day of college inside the classroom of grey faces and sundering pages. 

Feeling a slight drop of sweat slowly drip down my spine and to the small of my back, I only walked quicker to the classroom, where the space was coldly air-conditioned and the slight breeze blew against Professor Ren's dark hair – Giving me a stark sight to the drenched strands that I had curled between my fingers, in the hotel bathtub, last night. 

My book thuds as I drop it onto my desk, behind Rachel Mathews and Juno Steele, who watched me walk in, with little smirks upon their faces, which I no longer cared for what amused them. I was done with college, and the high-school antics that haunted the dreary souls inside the halls. 

I was ready to leave with Mr. Ren, the moment that I woke in his arms this morning, but I still needed to hand in my resignation and as he dropped me off at the back of campus, I only found the humour in the last, sacred moments of our secrecy. 

I wasn't totally sure when Mr. Ren was thinking about quitting his job, but he had mentioned that it would be beneficial to complete the last few weeks that his contract has, for he was signed as a substitute, and it wouldn't look so professional on his resume for future opportunities.

As the classroom auditorium settles down, Professor Ren turns and faces the wide chalkboard, the white stick powdering upon his fingers as he seems to hold it for a second too long while he stares at the blank slate. He brings the chalk to the black, halting for another suspended second and as if there is a lesson planned in his schedule, but his mind is almost fighting to change it as he finally writes the agenda for today's class. 

He turns abruptly around after the chalk scrapes its last line upon the board, "Today's lesson..." His voice boomed into the classroom, so everyone at the back could hear as his eyes flicked from all faces and then to mine, "... Will be a classroom discussion about the assigned novel from a couple of months ago." He announces. 

Many students begin to babble beneath their breaths to either themselves, or the person next to them, because of Mr. Ren's words – And though there was nobody sitting beside my chair, my thoughts didn't stop themselves from injecting ramblings, over one another and louder than the last as my stomach seems to twist, just as Rachel's hand shoots up and speaks against the outside noise. 

"Sir, are you wishing we speak about The Great Gatsby or your own assigned novel, Lolita?" She asks, seemingly speaking the same question that everyone else was thinking or muttering low. 

Kylo nods only once, before he sits upon the edge of his desk and sighs, "The latter novel," He says, earning a quick nod also from the blonde girl, who I once wanted to punch the daylights out of, but now, as college seems so small behind me, my blood doesn't even have the time to boil for her... Although, it does quicken its pace around my nervous system at the topic of discussion.

There is still a surging hatred for that novel in my bones, which he seemed to somehow hold so closely to his heart, and sometimes I fret for a moment that the only reason he keeps me close beside his tender beat, is because through this whole mess, I had unrepentantly ended up being his own outline or embodiment of Lolita. 

The discussion begins in the gentle moment where I slowly lose myself to the inner wrangling of my mind, like I often tend to do. I would be lying if I said that I hadn't read it all over again, since falling for Kylo Ren, for I needed to see the words, in the way he read them too. 

Overdetermined and indeterminate, Humbert has many names for the young and naive girl, who he sought after the moment his eyes landed on her. She is designated by an increasing number of diminutives, aliases, and misnomers, _'Lo' at home, 'Dolly' with her friends and teachers, and 'Dolly Schiller'_ _after her marriage_ – But ultimately, Humbert always reserves 'Lolita' to signal her special, sinister role in his fantasies and memories. As a result, Lolita comes to represent not the novel's heroine, but rather her embodiment of the very reverie within Humbert's predatorial imagination.

There was also no denying that during the time I had lost my morals for sleeping with a married man, I had also _chosen_ to forget about the realisation that I had been struck with as I was laying there one night in bed, staring at the binder of the novel – There was a certain irony in Humbert's talk of the nymphet, compared to the actions of Kylo Ren. It was as if Kylo Ren had read the novel one day, and decided that perhaps, the perfect woman for him was someone just like Lolita, despite the obvious and illegal age difference. 

Maybe, initially to my Professor, I was the wide-eyed, eagerly swayed and compelled young girl who would fall helpless to his strange and formal words of poetry, and his attractive touch? After-all, he had said in this very room that from the start, he didn't think we would ever reach a point like this, nor would feelings ever be attached to our colossal mess of a twining relationship.

Kylo Ren nods to the words that the peers of the room, interject with, but it all muffles in my ears as if I had shoved earphones in the entire time, only to mute my music whenever my Professor spoke. 

"So, basing off your previous analogy..." He says, pointing to the last student who had spoken and then looking back at the rest of the room in one quick scan, "Do we believe that Humbert _is_ the villain of the story, or was he villainised by his often ignorant and quick thinking to keep doing what he thinks is virtuous?" 

Rachel's hand shoots right into the air, and when her pitchy voice begins to rise over the low tone that I adore, I tune back out. 

It's remarkable to think that the very time I sat before Mr. Ren, just as I do now, I had bickered with him in-front of the whole class, about how Lolita was a disgusting novel despite its bewildering reputation, and that the story practically validated predatory intentions with its extravagant words and praise... And yet, in the end, I had easily let him do the exact same to me with a great amount of pleasure, for really, _he's nothing like the evil, Humbert._

Suddenly, my name is called and immediately, his voice sucks me right back out of my daze again and my eyes widen to find his brown eyes which my heart seems to swim within, staring right back, along with the rest of the melancholy faces around the room – But like always, Kylo was my main focus, the rest was just a... _Blur._

"– Would you like to add to Rachel's point that Humbert was villainised?" Kylo asks, almost fighting the urge to not plaster a mischievous smirk upon the marble face of his, "You've been quiet in the discussion so far, and I recall from the first lesson that you had a different opinion."

I was smitten – Oh, so smitten. I felt like I couldn't breathe, as if his mere gaze could burst a hole in my lungs and leave no space to hold any of my oxygen. I was sure I'd need to invest in a new pair of lungs shortly after leaving college, and after the initial struggle of trying to find a job without experience, nor a degree, but if in the end, I beat those road-blocks and get to be around Mr. Ren without checking if the doors are locked, four times, the lack of sweet breath and money would be the perfect price to pay.

I nod and furrow my brows to myself as I speak clearly, as if I am more confident in myself than I was, all those months ago, when I had no excitement or muse.

"Humbert was a pathological liar, to the point where even the reader was never sure what was the truth, and what was so easily twisted into his own form of a lie, which was only to keep them rooting for him and reading." I say, nodding to my Professor, "I do believe Humbert was a villain. He knew clearly that what he was doing was wrong and that's the exact reason that he kept lying and trying to run away with Lolita."

His face falls, ever-so-slightly, and just when I realise how my words could be shifting in his mind, I want to take them all back and clear the air between us, tell him that I didn't mean it in that exact way and that I see no correlation between Lolita and Humbert, and Him and I – But I can't, at least, not right now in-front of the whole class. 

"Well, that is an interesting take," He says, leaving no emotion to be found in his voice, "Thank you for your... _Opinion."_

When his brown eyes leave mine and move distantly back to the rest of the class, is when the world feels as if it is trying to swallow me whole and spit me right back up, with my bones mangled in the tied strings of my heart. As my eyes begin to tunnel around him, the dark peripherals only kept creeping closer in the hot light, giving me a sense of claustrophobia as I fret that I had choked the cherished memories and instead, given him a sense of misery. 

I seek to direct the downfall, counting the seconds that tick upon the clock and ignoring the shadows of doubt, which only taunt me with a sense of impending doom, that what gave me a reason to smile, was no longer happening and I might as well spend the rest of my days, spent in the confining of these bland walls, for my words which were spoken, seemed to correlate perfectly with Kylo and I's situation.

But, I didn't think Kylo was a villain, he was nothing but my protector, my protagonist. The moment that Mr. Ren had come into my life, he seemed to sweep away my lines and left a blank page for only him to now fill, as my own world became his, for he was the main character to my own life. 

The bell rings. I wait for the room to be empty, ignoring the rolled eyes of Rachel and Juno. The newly, radiant sun steps forth from the clouds of months spent together, wrapping us in a new, warm and brilliant ray which creeps through the windows, the same way I warily walk over to his desk, which he keeps his back to me as he packs up the things upon it.

"...Kylo?" I mutter slow, with my heartbeat pulsating erratically in my chest.

The tender second that his name is spoken and he doesn't yet reply, seems like years to my anxiety and apprehension. His back stiffens to me, as if he truely wasn't expecting anyone else in the room, although I slightly presumed that he could hear my nervous breathing. 

Finally, he turns, "Yes, sweetheart?" He says calmly, striking me radically with bewilderment, as I find his eyes aren't narrowed but open and intrigued, as he leans against the edge of his chest and smirks at the heated cheeks of mine. 

My clothes seemed too thick for this weather, but I knew that the boil of my veins was only because of the close proximity of him and I. 

Despite the total clarity of Kylo's eyes and demeanour, there was still a deep sense of dread inside my chest, which I hadn't totally anticipated. If only my ignorance hadn't gotten in the way of my excitement, for I would already be on my way to the head-office right now, with an eager smile to step into the possible future. 

I swallow timidly and sigh, my shoulders falling as slack as my words do in the summery air, "I-I didn't mean for my explanation of Lolita to come across in that way."

Kylo Ren lowered his chin slightly, his eyebrows furrowing together in question as if he didn't understand what I was saying – But I saw the hint of reaction to my previous analogy, and I knew that there was a tender bother to my... _Opinion._

"In what way?" He asks lightly.

I take a step closer to him, leaving little space between us, my knees nearly hitting his as he settles himself to sit upon the hardwood of his cluttered desk. 

I licked my lips and glanced briefly to his own as my mind fought for the right words to settle upon my tongue, only for my heart to evict them into the quiet classroom.

"In a way that may suggest that I don't want... _This."_ I whispered curtly my explanation, which seemed to be also an apology, despite whether he was asking for one or not. 

His big hand reaches out and his fingers rub the fabric of my sleeve, between one another, whilst the back of them cause goosebumps to rise upon my skin, as I feel his heat upon my wrist. 

Kylo tilted his head to the side and chuckled beneath his breath as his eyes carefully watch the trembling of my hands, "This?" He repeats, his face then turning back to mine. 

My posture became stiff and guarded, even though my heart was open for only him. My lungs were still struggling to work, my airways completely tight as this time, unlike before, I think through what I am going to say, for I meticulously don't wish to say the wrong thing instead. 

But ultimately, only one right word comes to mind, _"Us."_ I shrugged, "What I said, wasn't about us... All I need and want, is us.

He continued to roll the material between his fingers, methodically. Although, not with any referrals of seduction, but merely just for what seems to be comfort, as he chuckled once more and gave me an assuring smile – That same lopsided smile, which he gave to me, the night we decided to leave our secrets at the dining table. 

"I know," He said.

I kept my feet planted and my spine straight, but I followed his finger's movement with my eyes as my mind was abruptly sent back to the very day, he said those words after I had confessed my love for him.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and a slight sweat could be felt, forming in the palms of my hands but that didn't stop Mr. Ren from interlocking his fingers with my own. 

His gestures and tone were sincere, giving a gentle hush to the pulse in my veins and coaxing my adrenaline back down for the day – But, I couldn't help that I didn't trust his words, nor strangely him, at this suspended moment, which I easily choose to ignore. 

I gaze back to him, only to find his eyes are still upon me as I give him too, a reassuring smile, "Oh – Good," I breathe, "So, should I meet you at your car?"

He purses his lips and tilts his head to the other-side, letting his dark hair drop to his broad shoulder, "My car?" He asks, then checking the time on his watch, "Why would we meet at my car?"

My face pinked a little bit, "Because this is the end?" I repeat our words from yesterday, a little slower, as if he was suffering from memory loss, "I'm handing in my withdrawal after this..."

Kylo sucked a sharp breath into his chest as he uses his grip on my hand, to pull me closer in between his legs. "Oh right, _the end."_ He said with an amused voice, eyes bright and shoulders relaxed as he then wrapped his hands behind my waist, and rest them against the small of my back as he chimed, "No, I have to file and photocopy some texts... But you can meet me here afterwards?"

Taken aback, I furrow my brows, "Here?" I ask as I curl my own fingers around his broad shoulders. I leaned forward, squinting in a dramatic display of skepticism, but he only keeps that endearing look, dancing amongst the golden flecks of light in his eyes.

He nodded, "Yeah – I won't be long, but just wait in the classroom until I come back, and then we can figure out where to next, _I suppose."_

We hadn't planned this far ahead, yet. All we knew was that we were going to be together, without the haunting of his now, Ex-Wife and the hassle of a relationship, which I had to keep professionally hidden away from the college that we both, _despite our imbalanced positions,_ attended.

Figuring a life on the spot, seemed to make my gut churn with an emotion that I hadn't yet endured. I had always been one to never act spontaneously and jump into the daylight, preferring to keep hidden away from most attention, unless it was my Professor's. 

If someone had told me about what I was about to do, I would have laughed in their face and argued against it – But, now? I realise that I have never wanted to do anything, more than I wish to take the leap into the unknown, with the very man who holds me so close.

He had given up his broken marriage for me, I am giving up my lacking education – Our lives were already cracking before, but we only broke them further, for together, we could mend everything so perfectly, it had to be worth the sacrifice. 

I rolled my head to stare briefly at the grey ceiling, absently willing the plaster to give me insight of the bright future to come, but it seemed that the only thing which attempted to try and answer my hopes and preyers, was the gentle press of heated reverie amongst the windows.

I nodded, chewing on my bottom lip to keep the foolish grin of mine, at bay. He pulls me in closer and I lean against his chest, as my hands also pull him closer too.

"Promise you'll be quick and come back?" I utter against the perfect beat of his heart.

Hugging was pleasant. Kylo Ren was wonderfully solid against me and his arms wrapped with enchantment like a veil around my back. I eventually raised my head from the sturdy muscle of his shirt-clad chest, and dared another look at the porcelain beauty of his face.

He looked down at me at the same time. Mr. Ren's slow smile was like the return of breaking sun over the low mountains in the horizon of a dark planet. He kissed the tip of my nose and then moved down to my lips, which I only eagerly kissed him back with.

But, he broke our tender kiss all too soon, when he pulled away and breathed the words, "I promise," And then, before I even have a second to realise what had made me suddenly so cold, he peels me off him and turns to retrieve something from his desk, before spinning back to me cooly.

"Here –" He said, handing me a set of silver keys, "Take my keys so you can unlock the door yourself, and so you know that I am _definitely_ coming back."

I nod, "Okay."

He nodded too, and earns a squeak from me as he patted my behind lightly and said with high sarcasm, "Now go and drop out.." 

A dove that had no right to be perched so beautifully on the second last step of the stairwell, flocks into the golden sky as I practically race up them and into the office.

My smile of relieved hope was minimal in contrast to the story that was unfolding within my mind, every page and every word ghosted upon the rose of my lips, like I was silently worshipping the ending of the battle which Kylo and I had roughly endured, only to reach to this exact moment. 

I was doing this for him, as he had finally divorced his cheating Wife, for me. It's a comical way in which, we were telling one another that we loved each-other, without uttering the actual words, in which I had also said. 

No longer does the quiet atmosphere of the office, loom over me like a dark cloud of bitterness and melancholy, and the halls cease to resemble a canopy of wasted time and broken promises, for the sun shines upon the college, and in the cradling warmth that breaks into the empty office, I can only see the marvel in saying goodbye to a place, which had brought me nothing but stress and anxiety, and strangely, _my lover._

It was as if I was a host for his parasite, where he permanently coiled and made himself a home in the warmest enclosure of my heart. I nod only to myself as I hold an envelope, containing my formal request to be omitted from my Father's school – This is for the best. This is what I truely, wish to do.

But the reception desk is empty from the blonde woman, who had only once added to my forgotten misery – And in total vain, I chuckle and assume it must be because she was too busy, wallowing in her own sorrows after the death of her own secrets and her marriage. 

I didn't wish to particularly hand the letter to my own Father, simply to avoid confrontation. I turn my head in every direction, ensuring that nobody is watching as I curl around the reception desk, to find hundreds of papers upon the wood and personalised ornaments around the glow of the computer screen.

Hesitating for a brisk moment with the envelope in my hands, I find that time had slowed me as my mind thought over everything, for the millionth time. 

I ran my finger along the top of the paper envelope, almost trying to gently nurse a goodbye before dropping it upon my Father's, assistant's desk – The very woman who, seemed to be the colossal damage in the middle of all this mess. I don't even know if I have the heart to hate my Father for what he had done to my Mother anymore, for its too consuming upon my soul and there's an ignorant part of me which knows that if the beautiful blonde woman hadn't of had an affair with my Father, the love between Kylo and I, would have never grown.

 _Oh –_ If only she had known back then, what her actions would ricochet upon me. If only, seventeen year old me, who bashed her fists upon her Father's chest and loathed the woman who sat behind this desk everyday, knew what was to come.

I smile softly to myself and at the envelope which sits upon her clutter. Hint of karma, it's what she deserves, and her Ex-Husband, was what I wholeheartedly, deserved. 

Suddenly, an unknown noise is the reason for the falling of my smile, my quick movements and the crashing of an object from her desk. Glass shatters upon the ground and blood quickened in my veins as I rushed away from the reception desk, only to then turn back and search for the cause of the first sound. 

Heart nearly plummeting through my chest and my nerves frayed, I knit my eyebrows together as perplexity saunters into the blood which draws in the bite mark inside my cheek. Nothing. There was nothing but silence and isolation. Nobody was in the office, remarkably, and there was nothing to point me to the cause of the first sound, so I purely sigh and turn my head back to the second cause of sound.

In a split second, irrational thoughts became my only thoughts as I walked back over to the desk and dropped to my knees to inspect the damage in which I had caused. The back of a picture-frame sits among the shards of broken glass. 

I'm careful not to slice the flesh of my fingers open as I pick up the frame whilst muttering incoherent curses beneath my hastened breath. The frame was light without a pane of glass covering it, and as I pick it up and turn it before my eyes, the photo inside, falls back upon the clutter of shattered glass. 

Time had fortified me in one glance. I had passed through experiences so surprising, encountered wonders so vague and disorientating, that superstition seems to lay hidden in my soul, and upon the very day in which I thought all questions were left answered and secrets uncovered, nothing but dubiety clashed against my previous clarity, for the photo upon her desk was of her son, who unsettlingly, looked so much like Kylo. 

It didn't make sense. The child was supposed to be my Father's, but instead of bright blue eyes and pudgy, tan skin, this toddler had curls of raven curtaining around pale skin and dark eyes to match, the very eyes of the man who had my heart. 

Another sound reverberates in the office again, but this time it is louder, clearer, and it holds the power to snap my attention straight to it. It sounded the same as wood grinding on wood, the sound of furniture moving and it was a sharp shrill to my bones as it jangled my nerves, for it only echoed again and again.

The confusion only now boiled my blood further, almost sending the rush of crimson to turn into ice as the heat inside my body was replaced with a biting chill, but despite the icy-burn, flames of Kylo's dwindling eyes, send my nerves into ash.

I stand from my place slowly and tip-toe to the room where the sound comes from, folding the picture in my hands and then shoving it into my back pocket. 

Swallowing down the rise of a burning lump, which clogs the base of my throat as I curl my fingers into my palms, I only then uncurl my shaking hands once again and raise them to the blinds of my Father's office window, pushing only one slit up and peering a curious eye into the space. 

What I see, sends my curiosity into a fit and my soul is cursing it out for sending me over to the blinds, only to find the repulsive sight of my Father's pudgy fingers, twisting into long blonde hair, and pulling the woman into a deep kiss. 

I want to scrub away the aching disgust off my skin, until it is bright red or bleeding and I almost want to throw acid in my eyes at what I was seeing. My breathing starts to tighten in my chest and I expel them outwards in deep heaves. 

As the anger and disbelief shunned over my already tortured emotions, all the warmth from the returned sun, had been sucked off my skin and so did the fire in my heart.

Before my mind can even fathom any thoughts, actions take charge of my body. My brain is activated to produce aggression and twist the doorknob quickly, somewhat shocked to find the door unlocked, and with a twisted, vexed expression, I heaved brittle cries and shouts of violating phrases that only provided my torture with gasoline, which was spilt on my skin and all around me. 

"What the _fuck_ are you doing!?" I roared at my Father and the receptionist, who though both still clothed, groped each-other as they were lost in a deep and sloppy kiss. 

Outrage was churning in my guts and my fists wanted to punch into the back of the receptionist's, blonde head as their mouths popped off each-other and the eyes of them both, immediately and wildly, snapped towards me, who stood in the doorway of the room. 

The woman was sat upon his thighs, her shirt slightly crumpled as my Father's hand lets go of it and his other, falls from her curls. His eyes are impossibly wide and there is an icy fear cradling his dilated pupils, purely at the shock of seeing me here, catching his biggest secret in the act. 

My Father looks as groggy as he would, when he had wine spilt upon the white of his shirt and his ramblings that stutter to save him, are as useless as drunken revelations. I'm seething with an impossible amount of fury and my wrath was living both in my fiery gaze and words.

But when my eyes shift from him and then turn to the horrified expression of Kylo Ren's Ex-Wife's face, my eyes mimic her's and an icy chill, kills that very wrath and the embers only dwindle to my sinking feet. 

Now, only suffering and anguish had gripped their claws into me and only plummeted the sharpened edges into the beat of my heart. 

The picture sat heavy in my back pocket, and suddenly, I only feared the truth, which today had truely and finally, smacked upon me, brutally. 

I wanted to cry and swat away the feeling of guilt, which hadn't sat in my stomach for so long, for I really did believe that my loss of morals was virtuous and deserving.

But the guilt was ever-present and there was an undeniable power in the karma which had been brought, for it was never Kylo's Wife, who was the blonde woman that was having an affair with my Father...

_It was Rachel Mathews._


	30. TWENTY-NINE

All at once, my life crashed and smouldered in the raging trenches of hell. 

For a solid second, I genuinely thought that I was suffering from heat stroke and my foggy mind was hallucinating the disturbing sight that I am _really_ met with. 

Rachel Mathews was actually here, in my Father's office with a twisted, open-collared shirt that her knotted, blonde curls sprawled over as the pink dropped from her face, leaving her as white as the walls. 

I could feel the heat of the sun itself, boiling in the pit of my black heart. Everything was happening too soon, and too chaotically. It wasn't the initial rage that I endured at the reaction of finding my Father kissing the annoying girl from my class, who had threatened me with something I once considered to be my biggest fear... It was that upon those realisations, so many more were uncovered and left standing in the thick and uneasy air between us all.

My mind was racing as fast as a horse would run around a track, and the metaphorical hooves were kicking up the burials of my deepest and darkest fears – Ones in which, my own anxiety conjures catastrophic scenarios, which although extremely preposterous, some had the ability to keep me up at night – But this? Not even my darkest and most creative parts of my soul, could have ever imagined something like this. 

Rachel Mathews was the one sleeping with my Father. It made perfect sense, despite its absurd and ridiculous fathoming. It was only a couple of weeks ago, in which I went to that party with Percy and met her cousin, James Green, who told me that very night, that Rachel had already been attending the college, a couple of years prior to me... Which gives the exact amount of time in which my Mother and I, found out that my Father was cheating – Cheating with his receptionist, _he lied._

As time warps around me and the only thing that I can hear is my heartbeat in my eardrums, my Father rushes to fix his collar and squawk useless apologies. My temper was a slowly filling glass. Everything began to dawn upon me, but not softly like a sun would rise upon sand, but horribly wicked, the same as shattered glass would feel, ricocheting upon that very beach. 

Vexation was the shards but they didn't come from the solid chalice which liquid wrath, slowly bean to pool at the top, until spilling from the sides entirely. Slowly, I chug on my raging temper and become drunk on the fury, for now, I simply refuse to acknowledge the lacing of poison, which was the deadliest realisation of them all...

In one swift change, my teeth clamp down on the insides of my cheeks and my eyes narrow at Rachel, who is in the middle of my vision's red target. The blonde girl gasps and twists off the table, just as I saunter towards her, my fist curling and swinging just above her ducked head. 

Blinking at the missed swing, I snap my head back at her as she rushes away, ignoring the shouts of my Father behind my back as I lunge for another throw. I can almost hear the sink of my very heart, plummet into the thick and drowning liquid of my impossible anger, for it was a cocktail of hatred, hurt, confusion and heartbreak, and though everything was piecing together with taunting edges, I still refused to see the bigger picture and decided that all my rage should be laid upon Rachel Mathews – For out of everything endured, I deserved at least this. 

I can see the fright in her icy eyes, but even she knows that this was surely coming, after all that she had done to me. She just misses my second swing, but I open my fist to catch a chunk of her long hair, pulling her back to me and with a grunt, she falls to her knees and snaps her hand above mine, prying away at my fingers with her polished nails, to stop the sharp pain at her scalp. 

I found some twisted pleasure in seeing the tears pooling down her face, enough to not even realise my own, seeping into my parted lips. But when I finally taste the salt, it awakens the tastebuds upon my tongue, just the same as my mind kicks back into manual and takes over the destruction that my angry autopilot was causing. 

I suck a sharp breath in and just when my fingers begin to untangle, is when something hard is whacked into my hip. In the time that it took, eyeing the pain on Rachel's face, I hadn't noticed her other hand pry to the edge of my Father's desk and grab onto the golden sign which had his name upon it. 

Throwing my arm back and shrieking as the sign is harshly smacked against my hipbone, bucking over and crying out loud as my hands move to hold onto the throbbing pain, a bruise is promised with the violent blow. The momentum knocks me off my balance, sending me back but instead of sprawling across the floor and knocking the back of my skull into the corner of the desk, my Father's greasy hands catch me. 

Rachel yells through the clog of tears and fright from across the room but I am too disorientated from the pain in my hip to listen, nor peel off the blonde strands that have curled like thin rings around my fingers – But when I see the pudgy hands of my Father, holding onto my arms, I seethe and thrash myself out of his grip. 

The three of us stand distantly from each-other, like opponents often would after the final war, where they are the last enemies standing upon the bloodbath of a battleground. 

Dread grips onto me like a steel trapping, and as my adrenaline slows, it leaves space for the shattering of my heart to twist into my chest, mimicking the feeling of the wind being knocked out of my lungs. 

Then, without warning as Rachel and I glare to one another, ready to pounce if needed, my Father shouts and holds out his hands defensively, the same way a lion tamer would step between a starving predator and a small, chubby child, "Stop it!" He roared, "You two, stop it right now or I will call security!"

I want to shoot forward and instead, claw my hands around his neck or pull on his tie until it chokes him to death. My temper had become short, but there was a thousand reasons all for my anger which spat curses in the back of my mind, like a gunshot tears through a silent and empty forest. 

Rachel Mathews flinches at my Father's tone, but I stand my ground, only snapping my face to him and curling my nails into my palms, drawing blood the same as my fury and rage continues to overflow my inner chalice. 

"You –" I grit between my teeth, spitting in the tension between us, "You're sleeping with a student!"

I knew deep down that I had no right to snap at the age and power differences between the pair, but in all honestly, I tried my best to not think about Mr. Ren in this moment, for he was causing me more grief than my Father ever could... Because a little part of me knew, that if Rachel was the one who had been sleeping with my Father, all along, then Mr. Ren's Wife, was innocent... And that child in the photo, which was folded in my back pocket, _was his._

My pulsing heart even stutters as the silence sweeps over the treachery of the situation. My Father's breath hitches in the middle of his throat and his face looks panicked with a slight glaze of sweat. 

When no sound eventually comes from the gape of my Father's mouth, I assume that he has cowered back into his rightful, timorous vessel, in which he would often refuse to even make eye contact with me, because he could only see in my colour, that I hated him entirely and wished he wasn't even my Father anymore.

But, Rachel begins to speak for him with that pitchy, exasperating voice of her's, "Like you can sp–"

My Father cuts her off, saving me unknowingly, "Rachel, please." He sighs, quietening her down with a raised hand and sigh. His blue eyes then moved back to me, his shoulders falling in the meantime.

"You weren't suppose to see this." He muttered, shaking his head as his saddened eyes almost shrink into the crinkles around them.

A breath of disbelieving laughter falls through my lips, just as the tears upon my cheeks, dry with the scorching heat of my skin.

"Really? That's all you have to say?!" I shout, eyebrows raising and hands slapping up and into the air, only to fall back down against my sides with exasperation, "I wonder what Mother's going to think now?" I add, with unhumorous sarcasm.

My Father gasps and scrambles over to me, but I take a large step back before his hands can curl around my shoulders. 

"Don't tell your Mother." He pleads with glossy eyes. 

A blur morphs at the back of my mind and I think briefly about my Mother, at home, possibly bent over her desk with unmoving fingers laying upon the dusty keyboards of her computer. My anger only grows fangs at my Father's terrified plead to keep his secret safe, to cradle my Mother away from further pain, but every ounce of my body wants him to pay for his actions, pay for what he did to our family. 

My eyes dart to Rachel for a second and back to him, my head nudging in her direction as I ask, "Has it always been her?"

My heart is still hoping he says no, just so I can sweep aside the shards and not carry a new weight of fear... Fear that this whole time, it wasn't only my Father lying to me, but Kylo Ren too.

But his whisper of breath says it all, "Sweetheart..."

My stomach churns at the pet-name used by him and I want to scream into the small space of the office, as if my chest was being ripped open from a predator who slept in my soul, and I needed to release a horrible, animalistic cry which could push it out. 

"Cut the shit!" I shake my head and shout, repeating myself over with more clarity, hoping that he will give me the answer in which my heart foolishly hopes for, "Has it always been Rachel?"

He still doesn't answer. He just nods.

My face falls and so does my hopes. I stand stiffly in the middle of the cluttering of my defences and heartbreak, once again, and it is a reminding comparison to the feeling in which I felt, the first time I realised Kylo Ren had lied to me... But, that was only one lie, out of a thousand, it seems. 

The features upon my face feel gaunt and stony. My world is spinning and I feel as if I am in the centre of a colossal damage, a war zone. My lips purse into a thin line, to keep the sobs which are sitting at the bottom of my throat, silent until I find the power to speak.

Eyes of pained shadows and grief, I drop them to my trembling hands, where there's crescent moons indented into the flesh of my palms – With the colour of red and metallic, the blood almost becomes an alas for the eerie flame which dies in the blackness of my soul.

I gulp slowly, "So, it was never a co-worker?" 

My gaze raises, just to see my Father shake his head.

"No," He said, swallowing the lump in his throat too, before continuing, "But you mustn't tell anyone. I'll lose my position if anyone finds out that a student was involved..."

If I hadn't already of heard that, a million times before, both by the man I had willingly, and regrettably given my heart to, and my own tantalising whisper of fears, I perhaps, may have thought my Father's begging over and for my Mother's mental health, considered it too.

But, I'm gagging soundlessly on my own moral tears and the crimson which metaphorically gushes from the hole in my heart. I am weak and vulnerable. I am broken and no longer have a future which I feel as if I can hold onto... Leaving me with enough problems of my own, before I can think about anyone else's.

Kylo Ren _was_ a liar. He had to be, there was no possible reason for any of this, not to be fused on the basis of lies, like everything else in my life seems to be, too. But how could he have done this to me? Why did he trick me into a secret affair, only to pretend that he hated the secrecy as much as I did, when in reality, he was lying to me as much as he was to his Wife?

He had turned me into what I hated most, a home-wrecker – All so he could fulfil some sick and twisted inner pleasure of his, and perhaps, the only way in which he knew he could have me, was by lying.

Nothing made sense, but no part of me wanted Mr. Ren to explain himself, for I can't believe a single word he says, _anymore..._

I knew that I looked as broken as I was on the inside, and at the pain upon my face, guilt swirled in the eyes of my Father, who still didn't know what had actually made me feel this way. 

"Your position?" I shake my head and finally answer him, pushing my true pain to the back of my consciousness for later, "You lost your Wife and I, the day we found out that you were sleeping around... I can't even imagine what else you would have lost that day if we had found out it was with a _fucking_ student."

Rachel clears her throat from behind us, reminding me that she is _actually_ still here.

My Father's chin trembles, just the same way mine would, "Please, don't tell your Mother or the committee..." 

My disgust broods and my eyes narrow. As if he's truely asking me to keep this a secret for him? I suck in a sharp breath, feeling utterly sick. All I had done, for the past months, was keep secrets. 

I have been plagued by secrecy and deceits, from both my own and now, the one's of Kylo and my Father. I can't help but to feel as if in this very moment, my soul was nothing but a burial ground for the skeletons of all closets, and to keep them safe for Kylo, I had planted roses into that same soil and cherished the nourishment in which my love gave to them.

But those roses are decaying and dying now, no matter how much my aspiration still desires for there to be a way in which, Kylo hadn't been lying to me and creating even more, secrets, for they tortured my innocent soul and kept me awake at night, because sinful secrets are the hardest to keep and take, so it's no secret that those with the deepest, are the ones who lie awake. 

During the time which I had been burdened with the secret of Kylo and I's, seemingly one-sided relationship, I realised that the sky had done nothing but rain and cloud above our heads and maybe, that was why the sun had come out today.

I was sick and tired of keeping lies... This wasn't going to be the last exception I was going to make. My Mother deserved to know the heartbreaking truth, and my Father deserved to pay for his formidable actions. 

With a heart of glass, my defences rose high for the first time in months, and standing tall, I finally decide that it is time to not let myself be easily swayed and used. 

I shake my head, "N–"

Rachel cuts me off, stepping back into view and almost watching my defences fall back down like Jenga blocks being pushed out of their towering, one by one, by her pointed, sharp nails. 

"Don't worry," She suddenly chimed, tilting her head to the side and faking a tone of sincerity, but her words are just as threatening and harsh as that time in the movie-theatre bathroom, "She won't be telling anyone, _anything."_

All at once, her wide, fake smile says it all, _'Tell anyone about this and I will tell everyone about Mr. Ren,'_ The words are almost spoken with the evil glint in her eyes and I can almost smell the menace in the sweet scent of her expensive perfume, which wafts my way as she flicks her hair over her shoulder and flattens the crinkles in her shirt.

"Do we have an agreement?" She breaks the silence again, "Or should we wait for more... _Confrontation?"_

My heart is beating so fast that it is churning my stomach with every surge of my rushing panic. The toxicity of the situation just keeps building like an unstoppable ring of fire around my feet and the longer I wait to answer, the higher the flame laps against my skin.

The ache within, tugs on my heartstrings like the music of a great orchestra. My mind was sent reeling, unable to comprehend or process the fact that only moments ago, I was smiling with the chance of a future spent with Kylo Ren, forgetting the secrets and moving on without fears of our love being uncovered. 

Oh, how everything seemed to change. It was as if the moment I stepped into this office, I had teleported into a world much crueler, one where there is no sparing for those who are dimwitted and ignorant to the wicked reality.

I didn't want to keep anymore secrets, it was consuming my soul with every new addition – But there is a part of me which fears the new twist of fate, the future to come without Kylo Ren... What am I supposed to do now, stay at college? I really didn't wish to, but without him, I'm left with nothing else... So, I have to ensure that Rachel doesn't ruin whatever little survives the ultimate damage.

I turn slightly to her and take a deep breath to compose myself, "Yes," I say, my tone sounding taut and meek. Closing my eyes, I wince at the difference of my voice, only to regret doing so, when a lonesome tear falls down the tracks of my cheek.

I open them again and stare with grief. "I won't tell, " I promise, then looking back to the balding man, who was anything but, a Father, "Just know, that I don't ever wish to see you again." 

My Father still stands to the side, awkwardly and swaying slightly, clearly unsure of what to do, and oblivious to the hidden oath to our agreement.

I am being pushed to the brink of defeat by the idea of love with every echoed step upon the hallway floors. I am constantly crushed beneath the weight that I feel as if I shouldn't have ever allowed myself to be played so easily, like a puppet on a string. How had I not realised that Kylo Ren was a compulsive liar, this whole time?

Although, I must admit that at times there were little moments where I suspected trickery, but my endearment for him only chose to muffle it out or shred it into tiny pieces, the same as someone may tear an unfair contract.

I don't care to wipe the tears which endlessly run down my face, for in the salty drops, I drank upon the darkness as my misery bled out into the air. 

The empty classroom is the last residue of a legacy that never was. After the initial crack of the keys being thrown against the chalkboard, there was a ring so pensive in my ears and only my choked sob which wretched through my throat as I slumped into his desk chair, sliced the atmosphere and made me haunt the lonesome space.

I felt like a castaway for my last grip on hope only remained in the fragile embers which fell out of a scorching fire, raged by the rhythm of my heart.

Sobs turned into ragged gasps, and a new kind of dread flares when I realise that I'm dwindling into an ending unlike no other. There is no way after this, in which I can recover and continue to trust Kylo Ren. This was the true and undeniable end, whether I wanted it to be or not. If only it were as easy to exile him from my life as I had done so with my barbaric Father, for his actions have left me dipped in sorrow, but Kylo Ren had the power to drown me within it. 

My vision was warped behind the hidden terrors in my wide eyes, and they were fighting against the torn and shredded innocence of my soul, which I previously swore that a tiny part of myself always hung onto – But with this twisted fate, I realise that I was just as amoral as my dirty, cheater of a Father – For I was practically, _just like him._

I was as guilty as Kylo was in this situation, I should have sought out his deceits and never trusted him in the first place. After all, what could he ever want from me? He's got a beautiful, innocent Wife back home and a child to adorn their bond, and yet, he was selfish and wanted more... _And I only handed him all that I had to give._

He probably never even divorced his Wife, and I bet that running away with me, was just another lie. With a twisted, vexed expression, I heaved brittle cries and shouts of violating phrases that only provided my torture with gasoline, which was spilt on my skin and all around me. I wanted to burn this place down, for every corner of this damned classroom reminded me of him, and the ticking clock on the wall, only counted the dawning of his return.

 _How could I have been so stupid!_ I swipe my hand through the clutter upon his desk and send papers and pens flying to the floor. The tears sliced my cheeks as they fell downwards, so sharp in their head-splitting anger. Every pulse that shot through my scorching veins, stung as the eruption only fuelled the fire that began to burn inside of me as I folded my arms over the desk and cried into them.

Something hard sits beneath my right elbow, and just as I shudder a large breath inwards and lift my head back up, I glance to the novel which still laid upon his desk, as if it was glued upon the hardwood. 

The title mocks me. With white knuckles from curling my hands around the edge of the desk too hard, my teeth locked together tightly as my jaw rooted at the sight of the title, which my tears puddled around the lettering. My chest exuded an animosity that was like acid in my guts, burning, slicing, tangible in its force. My face was red as it heated with hot rage, and when I flipped to the first page, I only cried some more as finally, it all made perfect, undeniable, heartbreaking, villainous, _sense._

All this time I was the most fearful of people finding out about Kylo and I's, illicit secrets, only to find that in the end, it was his own secrets which were the most destructive. He had broken me before, and my heart of glass only frowned in misery, before it began to poke every shard out of place, once again.

I once hated with every fibre of my being, Lolita – And yet, somehow I had allowed myself to twist into a mimicking of her, only for my Professor's sick pleasure. I was foolish and naive, I was blind to everything other than his touch.

Lolita was a novel, in which the words were indulged into Humbert's mind and all of his strange circumlocutions, to demonstrate to the reader what a total monster he _is,_ and he _was_ a monster.

He was a predator and a man who always thought that he was doing the right thing, only because he _was_ doing the best he could for his own benefits, never caring about Lolita herself, for he only loved the look of her, _the idea._ Humbert didn't love Lolita, he never listened to her words, nor did he ever take accountability for the way he had ruined her life, and coaxed her precious mind.

I suppose now as my mind filters through every moment spent with him, I understand now that Kylo Ren, _indeed,_ was a monster too, but only because I seemed to be as ignorant as poor, Lolita, for I had allowed him to punch his claws into my mind and scramble it, until it only ever thought of him, wanted him, craved him, needed him.

In Lolita, Humbert had found it easy to sway a reader with his rich and magical words, but in my reality, Kylo Ren had found it incredibly and impossibly simple, to draw me into his affairs with nothing but a quick glance, that soon lead to a longing stare of love, which had been only the mask to his constant lies and deceits.

He was my tropical paradise, only he was the plaguing cancer to my sun-kissed skin. He was my paper cut lover, he shredded me, tore me, crumpled me and scribbled out anything that he didn't like about me, and I only pretended as if I couldn't see the tiny flickers of paper-thin cuts upon my body, which then turned to scars, and just begged for him to change me more with those moulding hands of his.

All this time, I had thought it was love, but I was nothing but his Lolita, his innocent and utterly secret, _Lolita._ I'm not even certain if he truely intended on putting himself in Humbert's shoes and capturing me away, running across many lands to where we could love without somebody breaking us apart, and I will never know if his promise of a future together, without his guiltless and virtuous Wife, was also just another one of his lies, to keep me in his predatory grip for a while longer.

Perhaps, there was one thing that was different between Humbert and Kylo though... Maybe, I was wrong before in class and Humbert never truely understood that what he was doing, was rightfully wrong, because he always protested that the young girl's charm was what drew _him_ in, always.

Whereas now, I solely believe, that Kylo Ren always knew what he was doing to me, he must have realised that with every lie he fabricated, he only dug my heart's grave a little deeper – He never waited for me to come for him, he took the first chance that he could to bend me over his desk and even when I found out that he had a Wife, he still begged me to stay.

I was Mr. Ren's very own, living poem to his own dioramic perversity and as such, I became the nerves to his novel, when the bindings of his cruel lies began to unravel and tear, leaving the pages to fall and correlate into a different design, one which I could analyse the ink a little more clearly. His genius was too easily missed, his plotted motives were based upon nothing but his own cheating lust and quick thinking to formulate a storyline, in which would only keep me reading along his patronising chapters, agreeing with his mind and handing over my heart to his creative hands, where the ink of his treacheries, bled into my hopeful beat and poisoned my perceptions.

My mind is running rampant to string together all the things I will say to him and all the questions I will have to ask, but the moment a sentence forms, my anxiety punches the letters out of place and leaves me once again, with a blank slate... For dolefully, I am riddled with distress and fear, because like every other time before, I know that once he starts speaking those poetic words of his, or even staring me down with the heat of his soulful gaze, I won't be able to regain strength and possibly, I will do just whatever he says for he sways my heart's path entirely. 

So, with one more glance at the first page of his favourite novel, I stare at the inky title and the bare white that surrounds it. I brace myself by curling my fingers around a pen in which hadn't been struck to the floor also, and face the facts of reality. 

As I write a goodbye on the page, I explain everything, somewhat allowing my heart to speak in the same way he had taught it to, by graciously giving me back my muse – But, that's all he could ever give to me. He had a family. He had a life, and at this very second, with misery bleeding in the pen's ink, I decided that I wasn't going to be apart of it.

I couldn't face him, for I'm not certain as of who he had actually turned me into, and if he could make me stay, one last time. So, as I leave the book open, with the photograph of his child, tucked into the binder, I take one last look at the desk which had multiple lines of scratch markings upon it, and leave the keys in the opened door before turning around and walking away. 

I felt like I was walking against wind and my feet were unwilling to move in the same way they run incredibly slow in dreams. I tried everything I could to ignore the fact that I had seen him walk into the classroom, from the corners of my eyes as I turned left down the hallway.

There was a hole in my chest and I felt like a part of me was now missing, but in truth, he was never mine to keep, but rather, mine to lose. There was no explaining it, or ignoring it. There was a pit in my stomach, or maybe the shattering of my heart still had some dark depth in the muddle of shards, I couldn't really tell, actually – For I was nothing but ruined. There was just a feeling of protruding emptiness that just wouldn't go away, and I don't believe it ever will.

When I wrote my goodbye in his novel of Lolita, I could have sworn that this was the right thing to do, and I still know it _is_ the right thing to do. Our relationship, or whatever it was, needed to end. But, if I knew that it was right to leave, why did it feel so wrong?

I couldn't help the slowing of my footsteps when I heard the thudding of his behind, trying to scour the halls and find me. It was as if my soul was still magnetically drawn to him, as was the rain. He ran with panic and the book gripped in his trembling hands, the same way Humbert had frantically raced around the hospital in search for his lost, Lolita.

_"Sweetheart!"_

Immediately, at the sound of his voice, my face crumples and my pace stops as if that was the magic word to leave me unresponsive. My shoulders stiffen and my fingers curl back into the indentation of my palms, cutting open the wounds again when I feel his fingers twine around my wrist and slowly turn me to face him.

He was the colour of porcelain, the same as the china ballerina which sat upon my desk back home – Only Kylo Ren seemed to be slowly shattering, and there was nobody there to glue back together his broken pieces, nobody but himself and the sticky secrets he had tried to play with.

The two of us both make a fragile sound of hitched breath in the middle of our throats as our eyes meet. I can see him swallowing his pain, shoving it down and trying to hide it, but the glossy layer above the brown of his eyes, is like a fiery beacon to my own illuminated brokenness. 

I had only ever seen him once like this before, and that was the first time I had left him, and this would be the last... It _has_ to be.

There's a dreaded silence between us, and the air feels so cold despite the heat of the afternoon, where nearly all students are already off campus or in their dorms, leaving the hallways so empty, it could resemble a ghost-town to our haunting of uncovered lies.

Kylo's eyes flick all around my face, as if he will find all the answers to mend the hurt in his chest, in the pink of my cheeks. The book is still gripped tightly in his hand, but as I tear my wrist out of his other, he shakes as if he wants to let it fall to the floor, where the debris of my devotion had also fallen. 

"Sweetheart..." He whispered beneath his breath, as he towered over me. 

I shake my head and narrow my eyes, ignoring the way my vision blurs behind the sheet of tears, "Don't call me that! I am not your sweetheart, I'm hardly your anything. I haven't meant shit to you since the start." I snap, my tone furious only to drop at the flinching of his face, which mine does shortly after too, "H-How could you?"

He makes a strangled sound, like a whimper but rougher and deep. With my mind spinning as fast as my heart pulsated through my veins, I was completely and utterly disorientated. Eyes flickering in every direction to avoid acknowledging the quiver in his chin, they stop suddenly on the familiar, brown eyes which drooped before me.

The room is a blizzard to my conflict and I try to keep my mind anchored in time and space, but it is impossible to not let all my veins absorb the sorrow and hurt, as if it is the antidote to the need to fall into his chest – Which is nothing but sabotage to my morals, while the flicker of love, is nothing but poison to my soul.

"I–" Kylo stuttered, his mind replaying the emotions he felt as he read the opened page upon his desk. He was as stern as stone, so much so that I would presume him to be a statue until the hallway lights above, flickered and gave a glow to his eyes. The brown is dark and dull, but the worry that drowned within, are his own shield and sword, despite the darkness and pain that is to come.

His lips tremble before he speaks, as if he is trying to hold back the clog of tears, which I only let fall down my own face, "I had no other way." He utters, defeated and admitting to his mistakes.

I breathe in a big breath of air, the summery scent of a decaying, bright and hopeful day even lacing in the smothering atmosphere around us. Though brutally honest, I found his truth to be unjust, and almost laugh as I scoff and scowl.

"No other way?!" I retort, "You lied about everything! You told me first that you were divorced, only to find out that you're still married, and _still_ you came up with another lie about her cheating you on you?! I know I assumed that your Wife was the one sleeping around with my Father, but your actions are... _Well, they're sickening!"_ I holler, my voice echoing down the empty hall and causing him to gulp.

Kylo knits his eyebrows together and a crease forms between his eyes, "I had no other way in which you would willingly be mine," He explains, his hands still shaking as if he wants to reach out for me again. He takes a small step forward, only for me to take another back, "Don't you understand? Everything that I have done, every loose-lipped-lie that I have spat, was for you! I needed you and I knew that you would have never loved me, nor even continued whatever we call this relationship, if you thought there was foul play."

I had been struck with something that I had never before – Kylo Ren was finally, being nothing but truthful. There's a certain vulnerability with his words, and a quick tone to match. He's desperate and needy. There is something in his chest which is crying to fix all of his mistakes, but it is too late for honesty now, he had dug his grave with the first lie he had ever spoken to me, and now, he was too far down and there was no way out.

"But there was foul play!" I protest, and my voice quivers when I add, "You were playing me this entire time, and you brought your innocent Wife and your own child into this twisted scheme. You should have never done this, you should have never even desired me."

Kylo Ren shined with an enchanting bounty of golden glory, but all along his love was fool's gold. This relationship was filled with the tender touches, small kisses but never flowers and chocolate. Some may not even believe that it was a relationship in the first place, but whatever it was, it was beautifully toxic... And although, the waste was addictive, eventually it would become the death of my beating heart.

He makes a desperate sound and his jaw tenses before it loosens as he speaks with a gentler, much more broken, voice, "But I did, and I still do." He admits.

I swallow roughly and my body is replaced by a heavy feeling that is like the weight of the world is resting on my shoulders and there is nothing I can do to get out from under it. Never had he been so open. After all this time spent together, I had learned that his emotional vulnerability was like a closed, dusty book that was locked in the restricted section of a library. 

At times, there were tender moments that I saw the dust lift and a flickering of words upon his heart, but still, those moments were nothing like what he lays out for me to hear now, as if he is ripping out his heart's pages and throwing them onto me – The edges catching upon my skin with every truth he makes. 

But still, those hands are shaking in closed fists by his sides and the tan-line upon his forth finger, is what keeps me from giving in and prying my own fingers into his pensive grip.

"Oh yeah?" I narrow my eyes to his face, "Is that why you still have a ring hidden somewhere on you?" I snap.

He sucks a sharp breath into his chest and the muscle beneath his right eye twitches. His silence once again, gave me an answer.

My throat tightens and my bottom lip quivers as I look away from his eyes and to the wall. Standing crossed armed over my caving chest and heartbroken, I cried, "I can't believe you anymore, and I'm foolish for ever doing so in the first place."

I fear now that I will never be able to disregard the feeling of emptiness in me, a shear of nothingness that somehow takes over, holds tightly onto my soul and threatens to kill me entirely.

The memories won't stop flowing to my mind, all of the passion, desire and lust, haunting and triggering my torture. Time is slowing, but not in the adoring way it always would when I was around him, but instead, the world's clock seems to be suspending, in the same way it does as a glass is accidentally knocked off the counter, and you flinch with the anticipation of it hitting the ground and shattering into a million, tiny pieces. 

But when I hear him, his cries cut time in half completely and spit me back into reality, to find the salty tears falling down the softness of his face, the same way snow would crash down a mountain.

"I– I'm sorry." He heaves desperately, taking another step forward, but this time I don't take a pace away, "Please stay, _I need you."_

My face falls and my heart threatens to leap out of the locked cage in my chest. There's that sadness, growing back into my soul and floating in the gloss of my eyes as my hands itch to be placed against the tremendous beat of his chest, slowing it down comfortably and then placing my ear against it, just to make sure. 

It should have brought me anger to watch him somber beneath the loss of something that had never been tangible enough to ever lose, but he made me weak. He says the very thing that he had, only once before and just like that moment in the plummeting rain, I want to take back everything I had previously said and ignore all the wrong which he had done. 

Damaging deprivation will forever be something that will claw at my insides after this fateful day, and I know I will go on without him, wondering what could have been – But there was no future to behold between Mr. Ren and I, if I had to share it with the woman he had begged to be his, first. He must've known this, for that is the exact reason in which, he kept me hidden, as much as he tried to keep his family from me.

"What you need, is to go home Kylo." I breathe, defeated as much as he was, "Go home to your Wife and child, try to mend what you have broken, and then... _Forget about me."_

My words seem to strike him harshly, for all of a sudden, his eyes widen further and his voice belts out quickly as if there are words he wishes to speak, that have sat below his sly tongue all this time, "But–"

I raise a hand and flinch as I cut him off.

"Don't make the same mistake that my Father did." I choke, thinking back to the very thing that had lead me here. There is still a haunting image of Rachel Mathews sitting upon his lap in the back of my mind, but I would rather see that a thousand times over, than the sadness on Kylo's face.

I continue slowly, pulling my hand away and peering through the gaps of my fingers as if I was scared, which in all honesty, I was. 

"I have torn myself over a thousand times and still to this very day, I feel no love for the man who broke my family apart. Your child will need you, just as I wish I still had my Father at times. I won't be the one to trample upon the ruins of your own deceiving demolishment... _Please,_ forget about this immoral affair. I'm not good for you, and in time, I will not be the person that you actually need. We both should have realised this sooner." I say, feeling a tremendous weight both plummet and lift off my heart, simultaneously. 

But still, he doesn't seem to listen. Kylo throws his arms out and lets out a yell, no longer caring if anyone can hear for he would risk it all at this point, to keep me playing along in this twisted portrayal of his Lolita, or the _'other woman.'_

"In time? Time is the only thing that can mend this mess and us, you thought this yourself!" He exclaims, eyes wide and face craning down to me as his hands then slap back down to his sides. 

My heartache rung me out until I was dry inside. My insides still felt as raw as if a winter wind was blowing right through my skin. All that he said, was as if he was leeching on the hope I too, once held onto, until eventually, I had none anymore, for he was wasting it all.

"I thought that only when I believed your lies and thought that what we had, was real." I quickly snap back, my eyes blown wide and mouth drooping down, "Nothing between us was ever real, don't you understand? You were the one who lied and tormented my inner morals with secrecy and devotion... You clouded my mind and imbedded your claws into me, just so you could make me stay and prolong the inevitable!"

My cry rips my throat like a shredded wail, one that makes Kylo's breath catch in his chest. He leaves me standing in an impeccable and tormenting silence, one that makes my ears ring with my echoing refusal to stay.

In this very moment, it feels as if only him and I, stand upon the grounds of this world, in this very college campus – Or as if we had frozen time and the only thing which has the ability to snap everything back into its rightful place, is the moment in which he finally speaks again.

"Despite the secrecy, it was always real to me..." He whispers, almost below his breath but I hear it too clearly, despite the fog of both his and my gaze.

I feel like my life has become a mocking of me balancing on broken branches that fight a windy battle, leaving me to fall frozen to the ground, peering up at the eyes that add insult to my injury. 

My face falls and so does my heart, it so desperately wants to believe him, but there's a tantalising voice in the back of my mind, most likely coming from the whispers of my morals, which won't allow me to, _entirely._

My voice lowers into a brittle murmur too, "What did you expect was going to happen if I hadn't of found out about your lies today?" I ask him, but don't know if I actually want the answer, "Or do you not fear the future effects of your choices in the now? You told me only yesterday that you had divorced your Wife and that we were finally going to be together... Did you never think that I would soon figure out that you were now also cheating on me, with the very person you had always given nothing but deception to?"

He still clings tightly onto the book in his left hand, as if he can pull the words out of the pages and find the right ones to make me listen.

"I thought time would always be on my side." He replies, eyes moving away from mine and glaring at the Lolita in his hand, for I was no longer coiled upon his palm, "I wished that we could be together, but there was always something in the back of my mind, which was scared. I wanted to divorce her, I still do... But my true intention was to really run away with you, and leave _them_ behind."

All in one day, I had gone from anticipating a future spent with Kylo, to regrettably ignoring that fate. No matter how much I still wish that future was attainable, I just pushed that chance away, for it was never a true, possibility. 

It was as if the second I walked into my Father's office, only moments ago, I had lost something, only to gain another. I was losing Kylo, but I'm regaining clarity upon my subconscious and realising all that love had done to me, was cloud my soul's wit and integrity, just so I could keep him. 

Everything we based our relationship upon, was indeed, trickery and duplicity. My morals were clicking back into place as if they had never left, for Kylo had only just re-wired them. All I could think about was the fact that his Wife was never the villain which I had ungraciously, assumed her to be. She never cheated on Kylo with my own Father, and that pudgy baby in the photo, really was my Professor's child.

My gut swirled.

I was the villain. I was the cheating _whore_ who was the cracks in a family, I was the blonde woman _, the Rachel Mathews,_ of my own family, and that innocent child, was the broken me – And with that realisation, comes the retaliation. I know that this has to stop, that Mr. Ren and I, were never meant to be with each-other, for I would never cruelly put someone else in the shoes of a broken home like mine, _intentionally._

I break my gaze away from the binding of his book and to the constellation of freckles upon his cheeks, which I will forever miss.

"You're a coward," I say through my tears, "And time is never on anyone's side."

He shook his head with certainty, "It could be if you just let it..." His voice trailed off. 

The tears flow down my cheeks unceasingly and my face contorted into a grimace. Upon his suggestion, I feel all the blood in my body go rigid and cold as my skin must have turned pale and clammy in the illuminated touch of the overhead lights.

I never thought that I could be so loved, but this was never love and he had never admitted that it was that, anyway – But I loved him, and I could have never imagined that I could need someone so badly, like I needed him. 

Kylo Ren, really was was extraordinary. Breathtaking. He was everything I ever wanted. When I first started anticipating the next time in which I would see him, _the real him without the surroundings of a classroom,_ it was impossible not to fall. 

And all along, I fell with a smile on my face, a muse in my wit, and a devotion in my heart. He was my sun. And I orbited around him with such reverie, but all things come to an end. All lights, eventually die out.

"No," I stand my ground, "The future is uncertain, but I know for a fact, that you shouldn't be a part of mine, as I shouldn't be a part of yours. K-Kylo, I'm still leaving college. I won't ever see you again and I am asking you now, to not come looking for me."

His grip on the book, slips, and it thuds to the floor, but neither of us care. Kylo Ren's pale face and red lips, say it all. His pain is mine. I feel it raging in his violent soul and it turns my veins to ash. Staring into his eyes, I recall the love that was bound in the brilliant browns which had somehow morphed into a fading warmth that only blazed with betrayal.

"But, I will." He shakes his head in a rushed motion and blurts, "– I can't help it, and I am speaking nothing but the truth, when I say that I'll always want to come back for you. So, like you said, don't prolong the inevitable. Stay with me, and we can still leave together."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw myself to the ground and either punch my fists into the ground or into his chest. The wail sat at my throat, needing to be released as it had a raw quality which tasted like pain and my now, bleeding heart. 

I shake my head too, but can't help the sob that elutes as I open my mouth to say, "No." 

His face tremors, but he makes no whimpering sound to the shock of pain in his chest. The silence attempts to caress the broken shards of our hearts, but I am still uncertain as to if his heart is as trampled as mine is, or this look of horror and sorrow, is just another mask or lie. 

The quiet of the departing day was a poison to us, for in that void of sound the shallowness of our conversation was laid bare.

I stare at him brokenly, I knew then that I had lost him, even if I was the one refusing to stay. I was the one that stepped away as he tried to grasp onto my hands with his own which I used to want to place my own heart into for him to keep safe, _but he won't let me get away._

Kylo Ren nearly leaps between the space of our chests and as I flinch my arm away from his first attempt, he is quick to snatch back onto my wrist and pull me closer.

"Wait –" He utters, his breath fanning upon my face as our noses almost brush, "You won."

How could I have won, I'm the biggest loser of this ridiculous game? 

No longer do tears mount the colour of his eyes, but there is still something poisoning the brown. The hallway swirled around me and so did my uneasy stomach. My heart would've shattered into a million pieces just by that one look if it hadn't already been broken before by the man who possessed the desperation within them.

I whisper against his face, ignoring the way his musk is so sweet to the wound of my soul, just the way an ointment would heal tattered skin, "What do you mean?" I ask. 

Kylo eyes my lips as I speak, and just when I think that he isn't going to answer my question, but instead, kiss me goodbye, he swallows roughly and pulls away only slightly, letting go of my wrist so he can twist his hand behind his pocket and pull a folded, white envelope out of it.

When he hands it to me, I presume it to be the envelope in which I had dropped onto his Wife's desk today, which held my resignation from my Father's college – But when I notice the stamp in the corner of the white, I nearly choke on my assumptions and my hands begin to shake around it.

"You won the competition..." Kylo's voice echoes.

I felt like my lungs were slowly filling with water, as if there was less space in them for the air to sink into. Inflating them felt like pushing up a lead weight on my chest. I sucked in the air as if it was ice flooding my system instead of apprehension.

Fragments of thoughts, splinters of words, and droplets of silence spun into a kaleidoscopic jumble, shifting infinitesimally, and then falling into an incredible new pattern as I choked on the realisations and another blow to my chest, of twisted fate.

My poem won the competition. I won an internship at a publishing house. I can't believe it, this day has been strange and distorting enough, but this was like glasswork to the opening of my wounds. It was the lid to all worries about a future spent without a degree, and a direct pathway into work. 

It didn't even matter that Rachel hadn't won it anymore, for Kylo was never truely mine to lose and her threats were off the table, the moment I saw her mouth pressed against my Father's.

Kylo whispers again, just as he raises his big hand to my cheek, and brushes a cold tear away with his thumb, "You can leave college and take the internship. We can still leave this place together..."

I know tensing against the shaking of my limbs beneath him is useless but I do it instinctively, trying to suppress for a few more moments what I know I cannot. I need to drink in the silence to counteract the perplexity that threatens to engulf me. 

I want to open my heart and all my greatest fears to him, but he will never return the favour. Even if I did say yes, I only know that a future spent with him, will always be deceitful and uncertain.

He brings a warm chill to me, so confusing in the hot goosebumps that lace my skin when my nostrils fill with his addictive musk again. In a moment, the tension is devoid of even the sun's comfort, but against his crimson lips, they work like a salve to my frayed nerves.

His lips brush mine slowly, awaiting for me to take the leap and kiss him tenderly once again. When he grabs onto my other hand, Kylo's fingers curl around the tiny, scars upon my skin. 

The shambles of my brain, are everlasting and perhaps, they will always long for the ameliorated touches which he would give, and had the very power to only heal me until the next time he cut me again... _But I can't keep loosing all this blood in the meantime._

I pull away from his lips, but keep our fingers interlocked. I keep the envelope pressed against my chest, for the poem that gave me a future, came from my beating heart of muse, which Kylo had graciously given to me.

Mr. Ren squeezes my hand when I break away and leave his lips cold. He can't take my silence or refusal, for it was the only things that I was yet to hand over. 

He'd rather have me yelling in his handsome face than this pensive silence, but eventually, he backs away when I say, "We can't be together, Kylo."

Mr. Ren looked away now, as broken as I was. He has weaponised his emotional indifference, abusing rather than cherishing my loving emotions as he seemed to plunge a knife deep into my chest with this uncovering of lies that he had kept me astray from.

The petals of his lips are warm, red and sinisterly soft as he bites down on them to keep from screaming with rage, but deep beneath the velvet touch of his beauty, were sharp thorns hiding, ready to prick one's fingers if they came too close. I was scattered with paper cuts and scars, for that was my punishment of ignoring the red flags and continuing to need his heart of paper. 

He furrows his brows and shakes his head to himself, inhaling a deep breath and pulling another object out of his pant's pocket, but this time it was much smaller and he kept it hidden in his fist as he turned back to me and admitted, "I love you." 

Kylo then runs his free hand through his hair and stares at me intently, hoping one last time, that this will change my mind, "Is that what you want, to hear me say it?!"

Kylo saunters over to me immediately, curling his free hand around my neck and bringing me close to his face again, to peer upon my terrified expression.

"I love you," He leaned in and pecked my lips wryly, pulling away and saying it again, "There – I love you!" He belted into my face, eyes searching for something for his hope to grasp onto, and keep him begging, but I gave him nothing.

In the declaration of love, the silence lays on his skin like a warmth, whilst it sits on mine like cold poison. Love had seeped into Kylo's blood and paralysed his brain, his pupils becoming dilated as he comprehended something that he had kept hidden from himself, the same as he had lied to me all along.

"I– I can't believe you anymore." I protest.

His shoulders fall limp and his lips become as rosy as his neck does too. With a trembling hand falling from the back of my neck and to my wrist, I want to hold back onto him but I can't – And then, the tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his beautiful face.

"No, No – Say it back and tell me that you're going to stay!" He frantically panics, uncurling his fisted hand and shoving something cold into my palm. 

"We will leave right now, look –" He motions to my hand, which I pull up between our chests and gasp at the band of silver upon my skin. Kylo then it picks up from my hand and slips it quickly on my left finger, which shakes uncontrollably beneath the heavy weight of his large, wedding ring.

"You're mine, I'm yours. I'll give you everything and more!" He pleads. 

It only took the thievery of my morals and temptations, to truely find where they _lied._ I spoke my own deceits for him, but only because I believed the words he spoke with every beat of my stolen heart.

 _Yes –_ I did throw my morals out the window and continue to sleep with Kylo, but only because I really did think that the woman who wore a matching ring with him, was cheating and that he would leave her for me. But that was just a lie to keep me hopelessly devoted to my Professor.

The ring looks so perfect around my finger, despite the obvious gap between my flesh and the silver, for it is way too big. I can see my own distorted reflection within the silver, and only then, do I wonder if this is what his Wife sees, every-time she glances to her matching ring.

I loved him. Kylo Ren was a disloyal villain in the shape of a broken, honest protagonist, but I loved him. Just like characters being introduced in the first chapter of a fresh page, I feel as if I didn't exist until I found Kylo, or more alternatively, until he found me. 

He was the refuge to my artistry, and I will forever be secretly thankful for him, for I was lost when we met, I was confused in the build up and I was raptured in the climax, but now, as I sit in my very own conclusion, I know that it has to be me, who chooses where I end.

He's promising me the world, but he was never a man who could be trusted. 

I slip the ring off my finger, to which it falls to the hallway floor with a loud, soul crushing rattle, and as the sound of his heart shattering around the fallen silver, pierces the suspended second, I speak the words of a finale, with true intentions and with what little integrity I have left...

_"Goodbye, Kylo."_


	31. THIRTY

The world seems to spin anxiously quicker than it once did before. 

Two hands still tick endless loops on my internal clock, but it is the beat of my heart which no longer carries the seconds, and with a crack in the face, the ticking time seems to take it upon itself to move as it wills, slowing here and there, but most of the time, flying by uncontrollably. 

Memories which feel as close to my soul as yesterday, turn flashes of moments into drawn out months and even years, cradling the spin of my new world, to a peaceful halt, but only when I think of _those_ eyes.

Maybe, the world chooses to move differently around certain people, and graciously reward those who deserve nothing but glory and a life lived praised – And perhaps, this drawn out life of grey melancholy was the sinister punishment for my past mistakes. 

I will regret all that I had done, till the day I die – For maybe, if I hadn't submerged my life into a drowning sea of stupid and ignorant choices, I could maybe spend a day looking at my surroundings and not imagine what could have been.

People always underestimate how easy it is to fall in love. Maybe the idea of, _'love at first sight,'_ is a little bit overrated. But the hopeless romantics and the dead poets, had at least had one thing right.

Life has moments... _And she was one of them._

I'll never forget her, and even if someone had the antidote to all this pain that I will forever carry around, I would refuse it for I didn't want to not remember the way she had allowed me to undeservingly, capture her heart. 

_I didn't want to forget about her._

My own secrets had tried to sew her to me, the same as I had tried to keep the other part of my dreary life in-tact in the meantime. Till this very day, I'm still uncertain as to what was happening with my consciousness and integrity back then, but she seemed to always leave me breathless and drawn. I deserved to lose her, after keeping her in the chains of my own lies for so long, and on that day which she had found out everything, she pulled on those strings which my deceits had sewn into her skin, and she only wrapped them around my heart, as a reminder for the incredible loss.

Life _with_ her was an enchanting blur, where the air she breathed out was my life-source and her smile was as intoxicating as a drug, which made me so devoted and swayed.

Without her, the world seemed sadder than usual and maybe that was because my soul was lonely without her's intertwined around it. Sometimes when the darkness of my misery tries to peck upon the remains of my heart and devour me entirely, I think back to the very first day, she had torn a hole into my narrative, and created a very special place, in which only she belonged.

I wanted her to be my Lolita, but she was never a fan of the original narrative in the first place.

I recall the exact way in which my eyes had caught a glimpse of her's in the endless rows of heads, as if her gaze had an invisible hand pulling mine into her glorious direction. There she was in class, so innocent and untouched from my cruel hands, the way she was suppose to be. Hair like a veil around her beautiful face and a smile that was contagious, she clouded my mind and haunted my integrity from the very beginning.

I shake my head to myself as I walk up the path of a new college, papers in hand and keycard, still hot from being freshly laminated, tucked down my shirt and pressing against my heart. Like it had many of times through the years, my mind has drifted to her again, for she is the island in my mind and I am the fallen castaway. 

Summer days is where I think of her the most, for her memory sits in the warmth and the butterflies which fly by, suddenly remind me of her beauty. 

A young girl with the softest wings, her innocence was her cherished beauty as it wavered in sunlight and glistened in the rain. I look out in wonder at the courtyards of a future beyond her, a new college and fresh start – With fluttering wings, indecisive and curious, there are many butterflies that cloud my mind, but she stands out from the rest.

 _Yes –_ Time had been incredibly and tortuously slow since all those years ago, when she left and took a part of me with her. Her poems were words which I will never forget, and I carry them close to my cold heart, as she had easily taken my own ability to look at the world and not presume her to be the owner of all the land in which I mount. But in the end, she was right all along. Humbert deserved to be buried in the deepest trenches of hell for what he had done, _for_ and _with_ Lolita, and I suppose, I do too. 

She was fragile from the start, and I should have never touched her wings with my hands, for they were like knives or paper – Too large, too rough, and eventually cutting her colours deep and dark, but how could I have refrained from caressing such a beauty?

Just like in many famous novels, I suppose that she and I, were never supposed to cross paths so dangerously, because from the beginning, we were treacherous – And that's why, only years later, I now clearly understand that our conclusion was the safest and best ending imaginable for our paths of invisible, binding strings. 

I move quick and search the campus map, which had been emailed to me upon successfully getting a new position, in a college on the other-side of the city. The grounds are busy and I have to keep looking up from the printed sheet, in order to move out of the way of rushing students and other Professors, who I am yet to know – But unluckily, when I try to avoid crossing paths with a young man, who wears a lime green jacket which reflects against the sun like a glowing light in the darkest of nights, I end up crashing into the body of another.

They must have been paying as little of attention as I was, for they were holding onto a stack of books in one hand and a foam coffee-cup, which is sent crashing and spilling into the material of my shirt that now sticks against my chest. The liquid wasn't scorching hot, but it had enough surprise to cause me to suck a sharp breath through my teeth and squint my eyes, before I even hear the cluttering smack of multiple pages, falling to the cement pavements. 

Coffee splatters along the courtyard stone and stains both my clothes and the pale skin of my hands, the same way chalk would smear along sidewalks but sag as the rain plummets onto it. 

Feet continue to move around us, scoffing at the way we both bend to the floor at the same time, in attempts to pick up my piles of papers, and the notebook and novel, which dainty hands try to pick up, before the coffee on the ground begins to sink into the words – But there was no point, for that was the very moment in which, the rain, _peculiarly,_ began to fall.

Water began to patter against the path around my stagnant feet as I stand with my papers now folded back into my binder. Furrowing my brows, the rain crashes onto the leather of my shoes with a cold purpose which was a stark difference to the summery weather of hot days and calming nights of an illuminated city, which now, darkens intensely. 

Only then, do I follow the thin fingers that still fidget around the clutter which belongs to the woman kneeling before me. The stranger picks up the last novel and my eyes widen as they move from polished fingernails, which uncaringly curl around the damaged spine, proving that she's an obsessive reader and quick page turner of perhaps, the familiar title in her hands.

Suddenly, then she stands and presses the novel to her chest, which seems to be beating a million miles per hour, as my eyes slowly and tenderly, graze from the book, to her neck and then, to her eyes, which are already meeting mine.

The campus swirled around my vision, almost blinding me with a magnifying awe as her features draw tendrils of inkling reverence which make me suddenly feel as if I was sucked into Humbert's shoes upon first sight of his precious and beloved, _Lolita..._

Silky hair which fell in waves and swayed in strands that seemed soft to the touch around her pure, unfamiliar features, her beauty gripped onto me, the same way a violent strike of lust, embedded their tenacious claws into my gated heart.

Time slowed for the first time in years... Causing me to even forget why it had ever gone by so fast, in the first place.

Capturing my words more beautifully than the novel in her hand could ever explain, my soul seems to metaphorically twine around her bones as if every single moment I have lived, has waited for this suspended pause of nature. 

In one single heartbeat, I needed to know everything about her, I craved her like a meth addict lusted after a pipe and crack. Her cheeks turned deliciously pink when she caught my stare and even though I had been sprung, I still gazed longer than socially and professionally acceptable, for those eyes had the ability to slow one second, into an hour.

Her nature seems quiet and meek, it must be by the innocent gleam in her eyes. She was small-framed and utterly delicate. Perfect skin, enchanting eyes, mystical hair. She was glorious in all of her bounty, but with a tilt of the head and a timid cling of the book against her chest, I realised she was also breakable. 

She drew me in like a magnetic field, clinging onto me like she had a vice-like grip on my mind. Everything seemed to hover around her, either moving or distorting at her mere presence in my sight, but the vision only gained clarity as it fixated all at once, when she mumbled a small greeting with the most alluring voice I had ever heard.

 _God –_ Love at first sight may be too cliché, but there is something inside of me which comes to life when she speaks. Something that _sparks_. And no matter how much I wish that I could ignore it, there is something in my bones, which won't force me to move out of my place. It's a light bulb that goes off in my brain, urging every instinct in my body to only move closer to her. 

Those eyes were what drew me in, and now, they will haunt me forever, falling behind every crevasse of my mind like a stalking and prowling, shadow... I flick my own back to the book in her hands, and smirk.

"What are you reading?" I ask, cocking a brow and licking the corner of my lips, seductively, in the exact way in which, all the butterflies of mine, seemed to adore. 

It took everything I had not to throw my fist up with a triumphant cheer when she finally smiled back to me, but I played it casual. I wasn't trying to scare her, like I had tried to clasp my hands over all wings without damaging them... But eventually, all of them seemed to pry between my deceiving fingers or choke themselves beneath the silver band – Although, perhaps, she was going to be the one in which I could keep forevermore, pin to the cork-board and admire with a dazzling endearment?

I shove my hand into my back pocket and use my thumb to pry off the band of silver before they met the cooling air once again, and brushed against her skin when she handed over the book. Every single memory of the eyes from years ago, seemed to fade away entirely the moment the stranger touched me, as if she had hands of healing, whilst my old lover, had hands of paper cuts.

I seem catch the prettiest ones, the young beauty's with the brightest coloured wings of all prismatic hues and delicate flutters. She's definitely a beautiful butterfly, one who doesn't look damaged by the wind or the soft rain that falls upon her doll-like face. My net is immediately drawn to her, and she doesn't seem to shy away as she looks down to the novel now in my hands, and naturally, back to my capturing.

And when the world begins to waver around me, blurring the damage from all those years before, where my sweetheart had left me lonely, and awaiting this very moment, the new, young, and beautiful woman, says the very word that I swear by oath, to mould her into, to match my sadistic, inner, Humbert.

She gives me a wide and innocent grin,sweeter than any nectar to my lust, as those rosy lips move around her serendipitous surrendering...

_"Lolita."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is... Paper Cut Lover!  
> Thank you to everyone who read this. I am not so familiar with a03 and spend majority of my time writing kylo fanfics on Wattpad, but after this, I am considering one day maybe publishing all my work on ao3!!  
> thank you again, lots of love!


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